In Spite of Obstinate Men
by Quatermass
Summary: When Sirius Black escaped Azkaban, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge sent for the Dementors to search for him. Dumbledore and Amelia Bones send for Mr H Delacour, former French Auror and consulting detective. Meeting Harry Potter by chance on the Knight Bus, Delacour, his wife, and his daughters are soon entangled with the story of the Boy Who Lived, and the truth about Sirius...
1. Foreword

**FOREWORD**

After the success of my two Harry Potter crossover stories, I decided to embark, probably suicidally, on a non-crossover. What started as a mental exercise in Harry and Fleur-shipping evolved into what I thought was an interesting story that leads into Harry and Fleur-shipping. I've seen at least a few stories that ship these two that have Harry rescue Fleur at the Quidditch World Cup, and while that's an interesting beginning, I feel it does sort of cheapen Fleur somewhat. I decided to start with Fleur's parents, and in particular, her father.

Her father is only seen briefly during the wedding between Fleur and Bill Weasley, and is frankly a bit of a non-entity. In fanfic, his character is anything from a French Auror to an Ambassador for Magical France. What his profession is, as far as I know, is never stated in canon, but an intriguing thought came to me. In at least one fanfic, he is an old friend of Sirius Black. While he isn't in this story, the connection to Black did seem like a good starting point, which is why I've started this story around the beginning of the events of _The Prisoner of Azkaban_.

In characterising Hercule Delacour, an inspiration should be obvious from the first name I chose for him for this work: Hercule Poirot, the famous Belgian detective created by Agatha Christie. This is no crossover, but without Poirot and his portrayal by David Suchet, I would never have found the hook for my version of Fleur's father. Indeed, I decided to look amongst quotes from Christie novels on Wikiquote for inspiration for this story's title, and found one in a quote from _The Mystery of the Blue Train_ : "I do not argue with obstinate men. I act in spite of them." It fits the state of affairs in Magical Britain, and, in this fanfic, the world over.

I also think that, despite having never read their stories, a debt might also be owed to two more of Christie's detectives, Tommy and Tuppence. Not as well known as Poirot or Miss Marple, this crime-fighting couple (from what I saw of the Marple adaptation of _By the Pricking of My Thumbs_ ) seemed like a suitable base for Hercule and Apolline Delacour.

I also decided to not try and emulate JK Rowling's way of writing a French accent. Sorry people, but I'm not sure I can do that consistently. I will have the relevant characters pepper their speech occasionally with a French word, but other than that, well, no. And keep in mind that this is not canonical. This is, in all likelihood, be a different version of Fleur's father to what Rowling intended.

Now for the usual disclaimers. Firstly, there will be, as usual, annotations and author's notes.

Secondly, bashing, where it is done, will be kept to a minimum. Save where idiots like Fudge or gits like Snape or the Malfoys are concerned.

Thirdly, the rating is currently T, but may change later on. There is Harry/Fleur shipping.

Finally, the following is a fan-written work. Harry Potter is ultimately the property of JK Rowling. Please support the official release. Otherwise, I'll set the Dementors on you.


	2. Chapter 1: The Boy Who Lived and the

**CHAPTER 1:**

 **THE BOY WHO LIVED AND THE FRENCH FAMILY**

 ** _BANG!_**

As the Knight Bus once again suddenly stopped, Hercule Delacour stifled an urge to roar with laughter, for many reasons. The first was that he had been glared at by many of his fellow passengers when he did so before, and that acne-ridden conductor, barely out of school, had the temerity to ask him to be quiet. The second reason that it didn't do his poise and dignity much good to do so. And the third, and most important reason, was that his dear wife Apolline was digging her fingernails into his shoulder, partly out of a need to have something solid to hold onto, and partly as a warning that she would do some serious damage to his shoulder should he begin to laugh again.

Gabrielle was giggling, though. His eldest daughter, unfortunately, didn't seem to share her sister's adventurous spirit. Pale and shaking, she hissed in French to her father, " _Remind me, Father, why are we taking this…ugly conveyance?_ "

" _Because it is a novel experience, Fleur_ ," Hercule replied. " _And despite its many faults, one cannot deny that the Knight Bus is an interesting experience. Where's your sense of adventure, child?_ "

" _I left it behind at the last stop but one, Father_ ," Fleur retorted. " _I very nearly left my dinner there too._ "

Hercule smiled. " _Then it is good that you did not. It was very expensive. Overpriced, in fact. Delicious and superb, but overpriced._ "

Fleur merely scowled at him, but he ignored her in favour of watching the latest passenger board the Knight Bus, a boy dragging a large trunk, maybe twelve or thirteen, scrawny, with messy black hair and green eyes framed by glasses. Apolline joined him in watching.

" _Father, what are you doing? Are you deducing about that boy?_ " Gabrielle asked.

" _Indeed. Quite interesting_ ," Hercule said, his joviality dropped. " _He's somewhat furtive, and he has a large trunk for a boy his age. Running away from home, perhaps…except…my God…_ "

" _It's him, isn't it, dear?_ " Apolline said. " _From that file you were sent…_ "

" _Indeed it is, my love_." In English, Hercule called out, "Sit with us, if you please. I suggest you hurry, as the ride is, how you say, rough?"

The boy, with an air of suspicion and furtiveness, reluctantly came over. He sat down next to Hercule. Hercule noticed that the boy kept glancing at his wife and oldest daughter. Ah yes. The boy was barely an adolescent, but the Veela allure still affected him. Not much, given that the boy was still fairly young, and both Apolline and Fleur were keeping their abilities under control.

As the Knight Bus took off, the boy yelped in surprise. Hercule chuckled. "What is the matter? You have not tried the Knight Bus before?"

"No! This is my first time!"

"It is my first time too," Fleur said, distaste tingeing her tone.

"I am Hercule Delacour," Hercule said, introducing them. "This is my lovely wife, Apolline, and these two are my beautiful daughters, Fleur and Gabrielle. And you are?"

"Neville Longbottom."

Hercule chuckled again. "You will have to do better than that, no? You may be hiding your scar, but I know who you are, Harry Potter."

The boy's eyes widened in fear. What had the boy done to warrant such a response? Trying to reassure him, he said, "Forgive me, Harry Potter. In a way, I am here in England because of something to do with you. Not because you have committed any crimes, but because someone may be targeting you. Professor Dumbledore and Madame Bones asked me to come over to find this person."

"Do you mean…Voldemort?" Harry asked, only to give a hurried apology when the Delacours flinched.

Hercule waved away the apology impatiently. "Do not say the name lightly, _s'il vouz plait_. Perhaps you do not know this, but the Dark Lord of whom you speak placed a Taboo spell on his name during the last year of his reign of terror. If anyone spoke that name with impunity, then Death Eaters, his followers, would be sent to capture or murder those people. That is part of the reason why few of us speak his name, even though he gave many more reasons to fear it. The Taboo spell may be broken now, but it is not wise to fall into bad habits. It is not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named I speak of as my quarry, but an alleged follower of his. You live with Muggles, no? You may have seen a man on the news, a mass-murderer escaped from prison?"

"Gaunt, with long, dark hair? Called…Black or something?"

Apolline nodded. " _Oui_. Sirius Black. He is a wizard, but they sent details to the Muggle authorities, given his dangerous nature. He is also the only known person to escape Azkaban."

Harry's eyes widened. "Azkaban…"

"So you know of it, then?" Hercule asked.

"A friend of mine…he was sent there, temporarily, by Fudge."

"Ah, yes. Hagrid, I believe," Hercule said. "Dumbledore told me a little of what happened last year. Not everything, but he said that his groundskeeper was sent to Azkaban as a precaution by Fudge." A sneer touched Hercule's features. "The holding cells at the Ministry of Magic would have sufficed."

"Why?"

"Azkaban…it is, how you say, Hell on Earth. Especially with their guards, Dementors. And I have heard that Fudge intends to station them around Hogwarts to guard against Black ending up there."

"And what are Dementors?" Harry asked.

"The most horrid, vile creatures," Apolline said. "They feed on happiness." She muttered, in French, " _And barely under the control of the Ministry, if what we have heard is true._ "

"Sorry?"

"My wife is merely concerned with the fact that these diabolical creatures are in place at Azkaban at all," Hercule said in a semi-lie. "That Black managed to escape them is astonishing. Azkaban is an isolated island in your North Sea, difficult to swim from, but the Dementors make the best guards, for they cannot be bribed or bought. How Black managed to escape is unknown."

"But what does he have to do with me?" Harry asked.

Hercule and Apolline shared a look, before Hercule said, quietly, "We will discuss this when we get to the Leaky Cauldron. It is not our final destination, but we can use the Floo from there once our business is done. You will probably want to stay there. I am told they already have someone there waiting to see you."

Harry's face fell. "I'm…not sure that's a good idea, Mr Delacour."

"Why is that?"

"…I've broken the Statute of Secrecy." And then, it came spilling out of the boy, albeit in abbreviated form. About how a particularly nasty aunt of his had insulted him and his parents, and his emotions got the better of him.

It was Apolline who first moved to console the boy. "Harry, firstly, if this is your first offence…"

"It isn't! It wasn't me, but they detected a Levitation Charm being used, and thought it was me. That was last year!"

Apolline recovered herself after the interruption quite well. "Secondly, Sirius Black may be after you. That is what the Minister thinks, as do many others. So I believe he may be inclined to be lenient under the circumstances, _n'est-ce pas?_ "

"If necessary, you could always allow the Misuse of Magic Office to see a pensieve memory," Hercule reassured the boy. "And thirdly, well, there are more magic schools than Hogwarts. Why, my lovely daughters both go to Beauxbatons. I am sure Madame Maxime would be happy to receive you, should the British be foolish enough to snap your wand."

It was clear to Hercule that this was not reassuring to the boy. Fleur, in French, murmured, " _Is this truly the Boy Who Lived? He's a scrawny little boy, and a bit timid._ "

" _He's also not telling the whole truth. Oh, he did tell the truth, but he is lying, if only by omission_ ," Apolline said.

" _Yes…I daresay Dumbledore left a lot out of the file he gave us_ ," Hercule mused.

* * *

Harry was, understandably, anxious. He had used Neville's name getting on the Knight Bus, only to run into this French family who seemed to know who he was.

Hercule Delacour was a portly man with a beard and a somewhat jovial demeanour. However, in his eyes danced a fire of intelligence. His wife was a blonde-haired woman of such elegant and ethereal beauty, he found it hard to look away. The two girls, one a few years older than him, the other much younger, clearly took after the mother.

As the French family spoke with each other, Harry frowned, and asked, "Excuse me, but…Mr Delacour, sir? What exactly do you do?"

Hercule looked to him, a little surprised, but smiled. "Ah, I'm sorry I didn't make that clear. I am a former Auror, now a consulting detective."

"Auror?"

"It is like a Muggle policeman, for the Magical World."

"Oh." Harry blinked when some of Delacour's words got through to him. "Consulting detective? Like…Sherlock Holmes?"

" _Oui_ ," Hercule said. "And others. My father's family is from a long line of detectives. I was, in fact, named for a Hercule Poirot that you may have heard of, no?"

Harry shook his head.

"Agatha Christie?"

Harry nodded, a little uncertainly. "I've heard of her. She's a mystery writer, right?"

" _Oui_. She was also, you may not know, descended from a Squib, and knew something about our world. She based her fictional character Poirot on my great-grandfather, whom she met and corresponded with, albeit without any references to our world. My great-grandfather had also been lucky to correspond with one Doctor Joseph Bell(1) before Bell died. You may not have heard of him, but it was he who Arthur Conan Doyle based Sherlock Holmes on. And one of my ancestors was the inspiration for Edgar Allan Poe to write about Auguste Dupin(2). In any case, after leaving the French Aurors over…political reasons, I have become a consulting detective."

" _Maman_ was insulted by a former colleague of _Papa_ ," Fleur said. " _Papa_ broke his nose, and _Maman_ set his hair on fire."

"Why?" Harry asked. "You're very beautiful, Mrs Delacour, so why did this man insult you?"

For a moment, Mrs Delacour didn't speak. Eventually, she said, as quietly as she could over the roar of the Knight Bus, "Because I am half-Veela, Harry."

"Veela? What's a Veela?"

"We will tell you later." There was yet another almighty **_BANG!_** , and then, Stan Shunpike was calling out that they had reached the Leaky Cauldron. Hercule then went to Harry's trunk, brought out his wand, and shrunk it, handing it to him.

"Thanks," Harry said.

"It is no problem. Come along, Harry."

* * *

Harry was apprehensive, Hercule knew, but Fudge, who was waiting outside the Leaky Cauldron, soon put those fears to rest. He was stern, but worried, and thanked the Delacours for finding him. He asked Hercule to accompany him, and on Hercule's request, a private parlour was given for Apolline and the girls.

Harry was clearly very nervous, and while Fudge chided him for fleeing the Dursleys' home, he did wave aside Harry's fears of punishment. Hercule prompted Harry to confess about the Levitation Charm, which was apparently caused by a house-elf. Hercule then prompted Fudge to promise to remove that particular black mark from Harry's record. Fudge even dismissed any need for a pensieve memory, despite Harry offering it. He seemed just glad to have Harry here, alive and well.

Hercule had to admit, the man had a way with smoothing things over. Unfortunately, he was also ridiculously credulous. Came from depending a lot on Lucius Malfoy and other former Death Eaters for money.

After they were finished, Hercule told Harry to go to the private parlour where Apolline and the girls were. When Harry left the room, Hercule turned to Fudge. "The boy was very nervous, you know. It was only lucky coincidence that I found him."

Fudge mopped at his face with a handkerchief. He was sweating not because of the heat, but because of the anxiety from Black's escape. "Very lucky indeed. You have my deepest gratitude."

Hercule doubted that. "You are welcome. Monsieur Fudge, you do know why I am here."

"Yes. Dumbledore and Amelia Bones called for you. Though why they thought they needed to…"

"Monsieur Fudge, Sirius Black has done the impossible by escaping Azkaban. Not only that, but I have taken an interest in the case for some time, and I have noticed…irregularities. People seem to believe that it is an open and shut case, but there is something wrong. I hope that once I meet with Madame Bones, I can begin to have something put together for your perusal."

"But what does this have to do with catching Black?" Fudge demanded.

"Know the man, know his crime, and you know where to look. After all, Monsieur Fudge, there is one question you should ask yourself, based on what I have already learned through correspondence with Dumbledore: if Black is truly after Harry to murder him now, why did he not do so all those years ago? He was, after all, one of the first on the scene at Godric's Hollow. A Death Eater would not balk at the murder of a child, especially not after betraying his friends. He would not have let Hagrid, who was there, stop him."

Fudge blinked, confused. "But…Pettigrew…"

"Yes. I believe that we are looking at an incomplete puzzle, Monsieur Fudge, regardless of Sirius Black's guilt. And I do not intend to pursue a fugitive without full command of the facts."

* * *

Harry made initially awkward, but gradually easier conversation with Apolline and her daughters. He was nervous and distracted by the beauty of Apolline and Fleur. And their fairly thick French accents also didn't help: he could understand them easily enough, but there was something distracting about the lilting accent. And Fleur was somewhat aloof, perhaps even snobbish.

Eventually, after some rather bad attempts at small talk, Apolline decided to satisfy his curiosity. "Earlier, Harry, you asked what a Veela is. A Veela is…a kind of magical being. Not actually human, but they look human, no? You clearly have not heard of the name, but perhaps you have heard of the Sirens of Greek myth?"

Harry nodded. "Odysseus encountered them, right?"

" _Oui_. Sirens and Veela are different beings, but we are very similar, in that we exude an allure. However, we do not need to sing. It is more like a…how do you say…glamour? We naturally exude it to some degree, though we can control it. Full-blooded Veela can sway many a man who has not known true love under their control. However, there is another side to us. In rage, or in battle, we can transform into bird-like forms to do battle. Full-blood Veela can do this, but half-blood or quarter-blood Veela may not be able to."

Harry now got the idea. "So…that colleague of Mr Delacour's…he said something rude about you because you're a Veela."

"Yes. To put it mildly, he claimed that I did not love my husband, that I had merely ensnared him. The words he called me were extremely rude, and I will not repeat them here in French or English. These are words many Veela or their offspring have heard in their lives, cruel and spiteful words. But my husband was not ensnared by my allure. He fell in love for what I truly was. I would know the difference between desire and love."

Fleur muttered something in French, looking down at the floor. Harry saw that Apolline turned to her daughter and said something reassuring back(3). Harry then said, "Well, I'm sorry that that man said what he said to you. I know what it's like to be told lies all the time."

Apolline turned to Harry, and smiled. " _Merci_ , Harry. I mean, thank you."

"And…it's pretty nasty to degrade someone because of what their parents were, especially if their parents were just different, not nasty," Harry added. "One of my best friends was called a Mudblood because her parents were Muggles."

Fleur rolled her eyes. "The same _bigoterie_ everywhere," she muttered.

"Xenophobia is universal," Hercule said as he walked through the door. "You would think that wizards and witches who believe themselves above Muggles would be above petty prejudices too. But they are not. They are as petty as Muggles who hate others based on religion or race or sex. Not that there is none of that in the wizarding world either(4)."

He then sat down with his wife and daughters, and spoke a few words in French. Eventually, Apolline and the two girls got up. "Apologies, Harry, but we must be leaving now. We are not staying at this…" She looked around the room. "…quaint establishment." Fleur sniffed, and muttered a few words in French that were probably far from flattering, judging by the rebuke she got from her mother. Apolline then said, "We are staying at a hotel elsewhere in London. Perhaps we will come to visit. We do intend to come to Diagon Alley."

"It'd be nice to meet you again, Mrs Delacour, Fleur, Gabrielle. Thanks for helping me."

"A pleasure to help, Harry. _Au revoir_." With that, and similar farewells from the two girls, they left, leaving Harry with Hercule.

"Aren't you going with them, Mr Delacour?"

"Not yet. I promised you answers about Sirius Black, and why he is after you. In my correspondence with your headmaster, he advised against me revealing the information I am about to reveal. However, Dumbledore is a man who plays his cards close to his chest. Of course, much of what I am about to tell you will be hard to hear, and I need to ask you to promise not to go after Black on your own, because after I tell you, it may be hard for you to not do so."

Harry stared at Hercule, before nodding. "I promise. I could do without meeting a homicidal maniac." _Again_ , he added privately.

"Good, Harry." Hercule seemed to gather himself, before he said, "Sirius Black used to be the best friend of your father. And yet, the crimes that had him sent to Azkaban were the betrayal of your parents to You-Know-Who, and the murder of over a dozen people."

Harry stared at Hercule Delacour in shock. Eventually, a single word escaped his lips. "What?"

 **CHAPTER 1 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Welcome to my latest fanfic. I hope that this is enjoyable. I dunno whether anyone has done anything like this, but I hope it will stand out, and in a good way. This will be eventually a Fleur/Harry ship, but it will take time to get to that point, partly because of obvious reasons of an age difference (Fleur is 16 at this time, and Harry is 13), partly because I think love at first sight is BS (lust and infatuation, yes, but love?), and partly because Fleur will have to go back to France to attend Beauxbatons, and Harry and she will mostly communicate by mail. The story will be more Delacour-centric than most, though. Harry will still play a significant and prominent role, but he will be sharing the spotlight with the Delacours. Hercule and Apolline's investigation into Black, in particular, will take up a good portion of this work.**

 **I think it is interesting to have Delacour's ancestors be the basis of at least two fictional detectives. I also like to think that his ancestors include the inspiration Arsene Lupin (an infamous thief of French literature, and the inspiration for Lupin III) and one of his ancestors faced off against the real Doctor Mabuse (one of the first literary and movie supervillains). I'm being a bit** ** _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_** **here. I'm more than a bit annoyed about how Alan Moore treated Harry Potter in that comic, actually.**

 **I think this is the longest actual chapter (excluding author's notes or forewords or the like) that I have ever done for a fanfic.**

 **Keep in mind, this fanfic may not be updated as frequently as most of my others. Please be patient.**

 **1\. Doctor Joseph Bell is considered to be the main inspiration Arthur Conan Doyle had for Sherlock Holmes. Bell's abilities in what Holmes calls 'deduction' but should be more accurately called 'inductive reasoning' were scarily accurate: I read an anecdote (with various versions apparently) in pathologist Sir Sydney Smith's book** ** _Mostly Murder_** **that upon looking at a man who came into his clinic, Bell inferred to the students present that he was a recently-discharged officer from the Royal Scots who had just been to the East, and was in the army band. He then listed various features that were good pieces of evidence for his deductions, and as it turned out, he was scarily correct, save for one point. He thought, due to the man's emphysema, the patient had played a wind instrument, but as it turned out, the man played a big drum. Bell has been portrayed on TV by the late Ian Richardson in the TV series** ** _Murder Rooms: The Dark Beginnings of Sherlock Holmes_** **.**

 **2\. I don't know how many of you have heard of Dupin, but he was a famous French detective created by Edgar Allan Poe for three stories:** ** _The Murders in the Rue Morgue, The Purloined Letter_** **, and** ** _The Mystery of Marie Rogêt_** **.**

 **3\. As this part of the chapter is written from Harry's point of view, he doesn't know what they say. Later, he may learn French, and I can write in their dialogue. I didn't want to risk using Google Translate and screw up the French words I wanted. But this is what Fleur and Apolline say, in English.**

 **FLEUR** **: _None of my so-called boyfriends could tell the difference. They just felt lust for me. And many girls just think…_**

 **APOLLINE** **: _Fleur, they_** **don't** _ **think. They don't know what it's like to be part-Veela. They may think it is wonderful to be so attractive, but they are fools. Don't worry. One day, you'll find someone, just like I found your father.**_

 **I may do similar translations for later chapters, depending on the needs of the story.**

 **4\. While there are more than a few wizards and witches of an ethnic minority in the series, I wouldn't be surprise if racism didn't still rear its ugly head, despite the prominence of, for example, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Keep in mind that there is prejudice towards those who are only part-human. And while women do have many positions of power in Magical Britain, many still seem to have very conservative roles as housewives and the like.**


	3. Chapter 2: A Sirius Discussion

**CHAPTER 2:**

 **A SIRIUS DISCUSSION**

Silence reigned once more, only to be broken by Hercule. "Perhaps it is best that I start at the beginning, no? Context is important in my line of work. The case of Sirius Black has been one of considerable curiosity to me for some time. It is one of the reasons why Madame Bones invited me over."

"Who?"

Hercule clicked his tongue in annoyance. "You know so little about such important parts of your world, _n'est ce pas?_ Dumbledore did say that you lived with Muggles, but I thought he may have taught you about important figures. It may have not occurred to him to do so. Amelia Bones is the head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement in Britain. A Muggle equivalent would be a head of a police force. Her niece goes to Hogwarts, I am told."

Enlightenment dawned. "I think I know of her. Susan Bones, she's in Hufflepuff."

" _Oui_ , that is her. Madame Bones has hired me for a number of cases previously. A most stern woman, but one of the most just, not like her predecessor. But where was I? Yes, Sirius Black. To begin, let us look at the Black family. Many consider their reputation to be as black as their name. I can name at least two confirmed Death Eaters who came from the Black family: Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, a most vile woman, and Regulus Black, who is, or was, Sirius' brother, and disappeared during the last period of the Dark Lord's reign of terror. By the way, please take note: many of those who call…Voldemort the Dark Lord are Death Eaters or sympathisers. I only use the term because the other terms are so cumbersome, no?"

Harry nodded. "Hercule…did you know that Voldemort was an assumed name?"

Hercule blinked at Harry, in surprise. "In fact, Harry, I did know. I found it so strange that such a wizard would appear seemingly from nowhere. Finding out his true identity was hard, given how many records he destroyed. In the end, it was a coincidence, but one I confirmed. Acting on what was admittedly a hunch, I looked at students attending the school during the Chamber of Secrets fiasco in the Forties. Having learned about Hagrid and the young man who blamed him, I found myself struck by something in the young man's name. I enjoy crosswords in both English and French, they sharpen the mind, and cryptic crosswords sometimes use acronyms of the words hidden in the clues. It occurred to me that, if you arranged certain letters in this student's name, you got 'Lord Voldemort'."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. 'I am Lord Voldemort'."

"Exactly. How do you know?"

"It's a long story, and I'm not sure I'm allowed to talk about it. But I thought we could call him Tom, if you're still afraid of the name."

" _Merci_. It is a good idea, though it would not do well to advertise this name. Let us call him Riddle, actually, in order to not confuse Tom, our host here at the Leaky Cauldron. Dumbledore has told me of some of what happened in the last school year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened again. To kill a Basilisk and survive is a feat few have replicated. But back to Black. His family often espoused the blood purity doctrine Riddle used, despite being, from what I know, a half-blood. An ironic thing, no? The Black family motto is French: _Toujours pur_ , or 'Always pure'. Not all of them are bad, you must understand. Indeed, your own grandmother(1) was a Black, Dorea Black, who married Charlus Potter. And Andromeda Black, a cousin of Sirius, was disowned because, despite being in Slytherin, she married a Muggleborn wizard by the name of Theodore Tonks. Of course, all Blacks have been Sorted into Slytherin, save for one: Sirius. For some reason, he was Sorted into Gryffindor."

"And there, he met my father."

" _Oui_. Your father and Sirius formed a quartet of students who played pranks, and they were, by all accounts, inseparable friends. Besides your father and Sirius, there was one Remus Lupin, and then there was one Peter Pettigrew. Your father also pursued your mother, and she was not appreciative of his efforts, at least until he stopped trying to impress her, and actually changed into the man he became. All four of those students, as well as your mother, became involved in the fight against Riddle. But rumours spread of a spy within the group Dumbledore founded to fight against Riddle, the Order of the Phoenix. In addition, Riddle began to target your family in particular even more. Eventually, Dumbledore decided to use the Fidelius Charm, whereupon a place can be hidden from everyone, and I do mean everyone, save for those who have been made privy to the secret by the Secret Keeper, someone chosen to keep the location secret. Sirius Black let it be known very conspicuously that he was the Secret Keeper. And then, on October 31st, 1981, well, you know what happened. The Secret Keeper betrayed the Potters. Riddle attacked, and you were the only survivor. And it is here that the story begins to become most strange."

"What's so strange? He betrayed my parents, didn't he?" Harry demanded. He felt angry at Sirius Black. And yet, there was something in Hercule Delacour's eyes that told him otherwise.

" _Oui_ , that is what the Wizarding World believed. And yet, there are inconsistencies. Black was the first to arrive on the scene, and had found you. He was then found by none other than Monsieur Hagrid, whom you may know. Black was told by Hagrid to hand the child over, which, by all accounts, he did so. Not without protest, but if he was truly Riddle's spy, why would he hand you over? Why not attempt to kill Hagrid and you? He even lent Hagrid his motorcycle, an enchanted device that could fly, to allow him to get away easily. Unless Sirius was completely unhinged, and this is still a possibility I cannot rule out, his actions do seem to contradict his reputation."

Harry frowned. When Hercule put it like that, it didn't quite make sense. "And…if he was a Secret Keeper, why go out of his way to brag about it?"

" _Bien_. You ask the right questions, questions that I do not have answers to yet. Keep in mind that I am not ruling out the possibility that Black betrayed your parents, but I am questioning the circumstances and the evidence. I was told these things by Dumbledore, who heard them from Hagrid. What happened next, however, is perhaps most damning, and yet confusing. Sometime after, there was a confrontation between Sirius and Peter Pettigrew. The witnesses, those that survived, were Muggles who heard Pettigrew loudly accusing Sirius of betraying your parents. Then, there was an explosion, apparently caused by a single curse. When the dust settled, twelve Muggles were dead. All that was left of Pettigrew was but a single finger. Sirius survived, physically unharmed. But mentally? He was laughing, apparently crazed, when the Aurors arrested him. He was soon sent off to Azkaban. And this, Harry, is where the story truly gets strange."

"How?"

"Many things, though some I need to confirm. However, from what I have been able to gather, nothing more of Pettigrew was found, save for his finger. And yet, surely there would be more? They were apparently able to identify parts from the Muggles who had been caught in the blast, and they were certainly more intact. I have wracked my brains to consider what spell, or a combination of spells and circumstances, that may have caused this. It does not mean that the events are impossible, but there are inconsistencies most strange. You noted one yourself: a Secret Keeper would not declare themselves to be such, not so conspicuously. And the actions of Sirius at Godric's Hollow do not quite fit the story." Hercule steepled his fingers, his eyes boring into Harry's own. "Monsieur Holmes says that it is a mistake to theorise before one has all the facts. I disagree. It is better to have multiple theories that fit the evidence, and modify them as new evidence comes in. Theories provide pathways for further investigation. What Holmes should have said is that one should not become tied down to one theory, that one should be flexible with theories, and not facts. And even a fact can prove to have a different meaning beyond the one you think."

"So what do you think happened?"

Hercule shook his head. "Do not ask me, for I have a number of theories. None of them may be correct, or one may be entirely correct, or one may be partially correct, but needs modification. I am seeing Madame Bones tomorrow. I need to see for myself if some of my suspicions are correct." He got to his feet. "I think I will be seeing more of you before long, no? Take care, Harry Potter. And remember your promise. From what I am told, you are a Gryffindor, and yet, you asked a question many a Ravenclaw has not, no? _Au revoir_ , Harry."

"Thank you, Mr Delacour," Harry said. "And goodbye." He offered his hand, which the man took and shook.

Hercule nodded, and then took his leave. Harry then went to Tom to confirm his room, the one that Fudge had reserved for him. Things were interesting again, this year, albeit in a rather dark way…

* * *

The hotel was a luxurious Muggle one. Though very much people of the Magical World, the Delacour family were not strangers at all to Muggle technology. This was part of the reason Hercule Delacour had been considered a maverick within the French Aurors: he advocated using Muggle techniques alongside magical ones. Sometimes, he swore that his former colleagues would believe phrenology was still a good idea(2).

When Hercule arrived at the hotel, his family was already in their luxurious suite, in the sitting area. Gabrielle was reading _Le Schtroumpf Financier_ (3), while Apolline was reading the latest issue of _The Daily Prophet_ , and snorting with derision every now and then. Fleur was doing sketches in a sketchbook she often took with her on holiday. Hercule noted, to his surprise, that Fleur was doing a sketch, from memory, of Harry.

" _Can you believe this rubbish?_ " Apolline sneered, waving her copy of _The Daily Prophet_ at Hercule. " _It is sensationalist garbage, as bad as some of the papers back home! And it's the so-called premiere magical newspaper of this country!_ "

" _How is it as an information source, darling?_ " Hercule asked.

" _Biased at best. In fact, the article about Black is the most objective piece in it, and it's so damned brief anyway!_ " Apolline bit back expletives, as Gabrielle was present, and it wouldn't do to swear in front of the young girl. Calming herself, she asked, " _How was your talk with Harry?_ "

" _Good. I had him promise not to seek out Black, but he also understands that there may be doubts. He did point out that Black acted rather conspicuously for a Secret Keeper. He is more perceptive than he seems. Maybe he may become an Auror himself one day._ " He turned his attention back to Fleur's sketch. " _That is an excellent sketch, Fleur. He left an impression on you._ "

" _He has a nice manner, for a little English boy,_ " Fleur replied. " _The allure still affected him, but he also tried to be polite. He made a decent effort, I suppose. But…Papa, there is something wrong with him. I'm not saying he is bad or anything. If anything, he at least has some chivalrous qualities, for what he said about that idiot who badmouthed you and Maman. But…did you see his eyes?_ "

" _Yes, Fleur. We didn't fail to_ ," Hercule said quietly.

" _What is wrong with Harry Potter's eyes?_ " Gabrielle asked, looking up from her book.

" _Did you understand what he was talking about when we were on the bus, Gabrielle?_ " Apolline asked.

" _No. My English is not good yet. I heard something about an aunt and a balloon._ "

" _Well, my little angel, Harry's guardians are not nice to him. Not all relatives are loving to each other._ "

Gabrielle looked at Fleur. " _Like Juliette?_ " she asked.

" _Maybe_ ," Fleur said.

For a moment, Gabrielle was silent. Then, she said, with considerable understatement, " _That's bad_."

Trying to change the subject slightly, Apolline said, " _Maybe you should send that to him. We can borrow an owl. He might even appreciate the correspondence. And it would give you an opportunity to improve your written English._ "

" _It does not need improving_ ," Fleur declared haughtily.

" _That's not what your teachers told me_ ," Hercule said with a smile. " _In any case, you are curious about the Boy Who Lived, are you not?_ "

" _Yes. But he could not have defeated You Know Who himself, could he? As an infant?_ "

" _I suspect his parents had a hand in that_ ," Hercule said. " _I believe he is uncomfortable with his fame, and understandably so._ "

" _I could see that_ ," Fleur said. " _He hates attention. I understand how that feels._ " The teenaged part-Veela seemed rather solemn. " _Oh, very well. I will write to him. It might be interesting to see what he says when the allure is not affecting him._ "

Hercule smiled at his daughter, but inwardly, he was still troubled. Dumbledore was no fool, so why was he leaving Harry in what had to be a troubled home at the very least?

He would have to consider that matter later. Right now, his concerns were with Sirius Black, which was why he was going to see Amelia Bones tomorrow, and find out the details of Black's trial. Always assuming, of course, that he had had one…

 **CHAPTER 2 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **A dialogue and exposition-heavy chapter. Apologies for that. But I wanted Hercule to point out the inconsistencies in Sirius' case. He doesn't truly believe Black is innocent, but he has his doubts. What Hercule's theories are will be examined in the next chapter, as he discusses matters with Amelia Bones. I also wanted to develop the other Delacours' characters. Fleur I viewed as being a bit like a French, female Darcy (yes, I have actually read** ** _Pride and Prejudice_** **, and I have to say, Mrs Bennett pisses me off something fierce): cold and aloof, but a decent person beneath that façade. Fleur isn't sure whether Harry's defence of her parents was sincere (it is), but she also sees a little of herself in Harry: hating being the centre of attention, and believing that others can't see the true person behind the façade. This, then, is the seed of their relationship.**

 **Gabrielle's allusion to a friend is by no means canonical, and I made it up on the fly. However, for anyone curious, Juliette was a friend of Gabrielle's from Beauxbatons (I presume, given that Gabrielle may be in the school during** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **, that they start teaching children far earlier than at Hogwarts) who suffered from emotional and psychological abuse from her parents, who are the extreme version of the sort who want their children to overachieve. Gabrielle was her first friend, and managed to get the truth out of her. Hercule, upon prompting from Gabrielle, investigated. Unfortunately, there was no happy ending, something Gabrielle, understandably, had a hard time comprehending: Juliette's parents removed her from Beauxbatons, and have her privately tutored.**

 **If, through this fanfic, I display my complete and utter ignorance of French culture and mindset to any actual French natives, I only ask that I be forgiven for it. And please keep in mind that this may be the last update for a while: I've managed to get back into the writing groove for my** ** _Borderlands 2_** **fanfic,** ** _Hooked on a Feeling_** **.**

 **Review-answering time!** **diagonalpumpkin** **: I haven't actually watched an entire episode of** ** _Poirot_** **from beginning to end, though I have to say that, thanks to a family member enjoying the series, I have probably watched the equivalent of three or four episodes. That being said, I have read at least two books featuring Poirot:** ** _Murder on the Orient Express_** **, and** ** _Curtain_** **. The latter fascinated me because of the central conceit of the murderer. I wanted to try and tone down the arrogance of Poirot in giving his qualities to Delacour. I couldn't get rid of it from Fleur: her aloofness and arrogance is a key part of her character in** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **, at least until Harry saves Gabrielle in the Second Task.**

 **Mangahero18** **: Thanks for your praise, and I hope you enjoy this story. Just to be a pedant, though, my name has no 'quarter' in it. Look up 'Bernard Quatermass' on Wikipedia. That's where I got the name from.**

 **Cartman1701** **: There was some coincidence: that of the Delacours being on the Knight Bus on the very night Harry uses it. As for your opinion on bashing, I agree wholeheartedly. One thing I detest about bashing is the very phenomenon you yourself describe: turning these characters into evil caricatures of themselves. I don't mind flaws being pointed out, but there is far too often taking flawed characters apart without putting them back together. I even discuss this on my profile as one of my pet peeves. I hope how this fanfic develops is to your liking. It's still going to be a fairly dark work, dealing with injustice and the lack of happy endings real life has, but it will still have a happy ending. Assuming I get that far, anyway.**

 **Stormbow** **: Thank you. And yes, I should have really thought about it. When I said racism, I meant more based on ethnicity (skin colour and religion) than nationality, being an idiot like I am. And you were right, Ginny and Molly were frankly being bitches towards Fleur. Fleur didn't help matters at times, though. She doesn't lose her haughtiness completely, she just gets better.**

 **Friaku** **: Wow, I'm surprised to have a story called 'a breath of fresh air'. Especially a fanfic, which is recycled from other people's concepts. Don't get me wrong, I'm pleasantly surprised. Thanks again. :)**

 **EDIT: I edited this chapter in response to a couple of reviews. Asherit pointed out that a more appropriate term instead of 'bon' for a French person to say was 'bien', so I edited the particular piece of dialogue accordingly. In addition, a Guest reviewer pointed out a very stupid mistake of mine: I called Susan Bones the _daughter_ of Amelia, not the _niece_ as she is in canon. D'oh! I've made the appropriate changes, but have noted them here. Thanks for pointing out the errors, guys. Asherit, I'm sorry, but I thought 'bon' was the right thing, as I have heard Poirot use it in what I thought was a similar context. And Guest, whoever you are, thanks for a badly-needed correction. I done goofed. :(**

 **1\. What relation Dorea Black is to Harry is pretty murky in canon. I decided to plump, rather uncreatively, for making her his grandmother, and thus James' mother.**

 **2\. Phrenology is the discredited so-called 'science' of determining personality traits from the shape of the skull. It's BS, and thus, would probably still be popular in the Wizarding World.**

 **3\. French for** ** _Finance Smurf_** **, the latest volume (at the time this is set, in 1993) of** ** _The Smurfs_** **, which is, believe it or not, a Belgian comic. I nearly had her reading** ** _Asterix_** **, but I thought** ** _The Smurfs_** **might be a bit more suitable to someone of Gabrielle's age. Of course, I haven't actually read one of the comics, so it might be that I have her reading a book that is more advanced than she should be reading, in which case, I apologise for my ignorance.**


	4. Chapter 3: Hercule Delacour at the DMLE

**CHAPTER 3:**

 **HERCULE DELACOUR AT THE DMLE**

Hercule Delacour hated the Ministry of Magic back home. Ostentatious, pretentious, and other words ending in the suffix –ous. And while he could be admittedly guilty of showing the same attributes, those same attributes were used as window-dressing, as weapons in his arsenal. People tended to either look down on or look up to the haughty. The former especially if one was a foreigner, as his ancestor and his fictional namesake had said.

While the British Ministry wasn't quite as opulent as the one back home, it still had the same arrogance. It was all Hercule could do not to sneer at the sculpted fountain, made of gold. It was at best, patronising. Not that Hercule was innocent of being patronising, but it came partly from having high standards, and partly because it was a useful psychological weapon.

It portrayed a witch and wizard in gold, along with a goblin, a centaur, and a house-elf. Water sprayed from the wands of the two mages, along with the arrow of the centaur's bow, the goblin's pointed hat, and the ears of the house-elf. It was called the Fountain of Magical Brethren, but the non-humans were looking to the wizard and witch in adoration. A realistic look for the house-elf, but both centaurs and goblins considered themselves superior to humans. It was supposed to be a statement of equality, but in execution, came off as claiming wizards and witches to be superior to any other magical being.

Hercule had only one true opinion on the matter: even the most powerful of wizards could be defeated by those you considered beneath you. Look at Harry Potter: an infant child apparently manages to defeat Voldemort. Of course, as he said to his family, he rather suspected that one or both of the boy's parents had a hand in that: Lily Potter was said to be a prodigy for a Muggleborn. But that only proved his point: Voldemort would have found it even more inconceivable to be bested by what he would call a Mudblood, a being he would consider only above a Muggle, than a Halfblood child.

Look at the house-elves. Hercule had one himself back home, and made especial care to treat the house-elf as a valuable member of the family. He found it somewhat distasteful, but as the house-elves had evolved (or devolved? Perhaps) into a symbiotic relationship that they may die without magic in exchange for their servitude, he kept said house-elf. His father, who had gotten the house-elf before he died, probably thought he was being funny when he named the house-elf Arty, after Arthur Hastings, the perennial partner of Poirot. Hercule found that distasteful.

Anyway, the house-elves had extraordinary magical power. If they ever decided to rebel, either individually or _en masse_ , there would be trouble. Of course, wizards and witches, believing house-elves' loyalty to be absolute, all too often treated them with contempt. But a canny and rebellious house-elf could interpret their master's orders creatively.

Hercule frowned. Harry Potter had mentioned a house-elf causing him trouble last year with his guardians. Why would a house-elf cause trouble in a Muggle household? Unless, of course, it was because it was Harry Potter's place of residence.

The Ministry was in quite a panic, given what happened with Sirius Black. As Hercule signed in his wand, he noticed the hustle and bustle, the fear and anxiety in people's minds. It didn't even occur to any of them to question the established facts. Of course, it was still possible that Black's nature was as black as his name. But he needed more facts!

He made his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A young Auror, either still being trained or barely out of it, stumbled into him. "Oh, sorry!" she said.

"It is no problem," Hercule said. The woman had hair the most bright shade of bubblegum pink.

The young woman looked up at him, and frowned. "'Scuse me, but are you that French bloke Madame Bones was waiting for?"

" _Oui_ , mademoiselle…?"

"Tonks. Just Tonks."

Enlightenment dawned on Hercule. "Ah, the Metamorphagus Madame Bones spoke to me of. Nymphadora Tonks."

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, her hair becoming red with both anger and embarrassment.

Hercule decided to tease her a little. "But it is a beautiful name, is it not? Nymphadora, 'gift of the Nymphs'."

She blinked, before scowling. "I still don't like it. Anyway, you're Mr Delacour, right? Madame Bones and old Mad-Eye have told me about you. You're some consulting detective, like Sherlock Holmes, right?"

"Indeed, Mademoiselle Tonks," Hercule said. "They brought me here to try and help find Monsieur Black. But I have noticed…irregularities."

"Well, that bastard deserved it," Tonks said, with more than a little bitterness. Hercule noted it, but didn't comment. He remembered that she shared a last name with Andromeda Tonks. "Come on, mate, I'd better get you to the boss."

* * *

Tonks led Hercule through the DMLE through to Bones' office. But the doors to the office were opened, and a most extraordinary figure walked through. It was as if someone transfigured a toad into a woman, put them into nauseatingly pink clothing, and made them a witch.

"…Minister is sending the Dementors to Hogwarts, Amelia, and that's final!" the woman called back disparagingly. She then noticed Hercule and Tonks standing there. With a voice that mixed imperiousness, haughtiness, and an unctuous false charm, she said, "And whom might you be, sir?"

Hercule decided to adopt a thicker accent. " _Bonjour_ , Madame. I am Hercule Delacour."

The manner of the dumpy, batrachian witch in front of him shifted slightly. More patronising, more disdainful, and more saccharine. Still was just as oleaginous, though. "I am Delores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. You must be the foreign detective I was told about."

" _Oui_. That I am."

"Well, I daresay it has been a wasted journey for you, Mon-sewer Delacour." Delacour got the impression that Umbridge was deliberately mispronouncing 'monsieur'. "We have everything under control."

"Madame, an escaped convict is most definitely not under your control," Hercule said.

"Hem, hem." Delacour would come to hate that soft, but intrusive throat-clearing Umbridge would always make. "With all due respect, Mon-sewer Delacour," and Hercule knew that no respect was considered due to him at all, "the Ministry can handle this. Do not go poking your nose into matters that are already settled."

"I am here to see Madame Bones, Madame Umbridge. However, I will wish you the best of luck in your pursuit of Black. _À chaque fou plaît sa marotte._ "

Umbridge blinked, trying to figure out whether she had been insulted or not, before nodding to him. "Good day to you, Mon-sewer Delacour." And with that, she strode out.

"She's a horrid woman," Tonks said quietly. "Y'know what they call her in some parts of the Ministry? The Umbitch. By the way, what did you say to her in French?"

Before Hercule could reply, a stern, serious woman wearing a monocle came out of the office. "He said that every fool is pleased with their own folly," Amelia Bones said. "One of your favourite sayings, isn't it, Hercule?"

"Indeed, Madame Bones."

Amelia turned to Tonks, and said, "All right, Tonks, you may go. And thank you for helping Hercule here."

Tonks nodded, and turned to Hercule with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr Delacour. Hope you catch that bastard."

As the Metamorphagus strode away, Hercule frowned. "She is Andromeda Tonks' child. No wonder she feels animosity towards Black."

"She's far from the only one here. It's just a bit more personal for her. It is good to see you, Hercule," Amelia said as she led him into her office.

He sat across from her desk, and waited patiently for her to be seated. The desk was drowning in papers. "This situation is somewhat messy, no?" he asked.

"That is like saying that Gringotts has some gold," Amelia replied. "Sirius Black manages to escape from Azkaban, which nobody has ever done before. The Dementors are furious, and so too is Umbridge."

"What does Umbridge have to do with it?" Hercule asked.

"Amongst her many duties is liaising with the Dementors on behalf of Fudge(1)," Amelia said. "She has a ridiculous rapport with them. Some of my people say that she is a Dementor in disguise, because she sucks the joy and happiness away wherever she goes."

"True," Hercule remarked. "But unlike a Dementor, one can bait her with impunity if one takes care."

Amelia showed a rather thin smile at that. "I wouldn't try doing that. She's politically savvy, and not a nice person, to put it mildly. In any case, she feels that the failure of the Dementors and the Aurors who are stationed at Azkaban to contain Black reflects badly on her. She feels my bringing you in adds insult to injury, especially considering Dumbledore also helped to get you involved."

"She hates Dumbledore?"

"Yes. Don't get me wrong, the man has faults, but his liberal attitude towards Muggleborns is certainly not one of them. But Umbridge…she's a blood-purist, albeit a fairly closeted one. Not a Death Eater by any means, but a poisonous toad of a woman nonetheless."

"Enough of her," Hercule said, waving away the subject of Umbridge impatiently like a bad smell. "So, what have you found, Amelia?"

Amelia pursed her thin lips. "Not much, I have to confess. I've tried, time and again to find Black's trial records. It should be simple enough: even with the utter mess the records are in, especially from that time, the records are organised in a manner I should have been able to find the records. Even before I called on you, I tried to find these records. I don't understand. Records must be more disorganised than I thought. Or maybe someone doesn't want the records found."

"Assuming there are any," Hercule said.

Amelia nodded. "I have considered that possibility, and I'm still keeping it in mind. But remember, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Your words and mine, Hercule."

"Indeed. But I have done my own researches. Barty Crouch Senior, the incumbent in your role at the time, had apparently put many into Azkaban without trial, as well as authorising the use of the Unforgivables against the Death Eaters. During the war with You-Know-Who, one of the prime maxims of any civilised society was forgotten: the presumption of innocence. And it may be that Black did not receive a trial."

"A thought which has crossed my mind," Amelia said. "But the prevailing mood is that Black does not deserve one. Fudge has ordered the Dementors to administer the Kiss on sight."

"What? But I thought I had introduced some doubt to him last night, at the Leaky Cauldron!" Hercule yelped.

"Umbridge persuaded him otherwise. Fudge only believes what he wants to," Amelia said, with an undertone that said, ' _And he's a bloody idiot for that_ '.

"Very well. I will go down to the records myself. Then, I will go to Barty Crouch. Afterwards, I will be holidaying until September 1st. Professor Dumbledore has invited me to Hogwarts to interview the staff who knew Black, as well as to assist with searching for him."

"But you don't think he did it? I can see it on your face, Hercule."

"Amelia, what you see is doubt. He may have done so, but there are too many holes in the story as it stands." He listed the flaws and holes in the story to Amelia, like he had done to Harry and to Fudge. He also pointed out Harry's own shrewd observation.

"I have, broadly-speaking, four theories, Amelia," he concluded. "Or rather, four versions of events so far. All of which are subject to modification or rejection, depending on the evidence. The first is, broadly speaking, the same as what people believe happened: that Black betrayed the Potters, and he murdered Pettigrew. The second is that Black only gave up the information after prolonged torture by the Death Eaters, and killed Pettigrew while under their control, or else…well, you will see why. But given that Black seemed to be so conspicuous about portraying himself as the Secret Keeper, the other two scenarios suppose that he wasn't the Secret Keeper. This is merely speculation, but given events…"

"Black wasn't the Secret Keeper? But who…" Her eyes widened. "Pettigrew!"

"Indeed. The third scenario supposes that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, and Black was a decoy. But Pettigrew betrayed them. Black, understandably furious, tracks down Pettigrew, who tries the crude psychological ploy of claiming Sirius was a traitor to the witnesses, some of whom survive what comes next. Black, blinded by rage and grief, attacks Pettigrew with a curse, unintentionally killing those Muggles when he meant to kill Pettigrew. This is an interesting scenario."

"And the fourth?"

"Like the third, but with a twist: Pettigrew himself cast the curse that killed the Muggles, removed his finger, and somehow escaped. This one, strangely, appeals to me. After all, where was the rest of Pettigrew's remains? Why only a single finger? Which is why I want to examine what other records the Aurors have of the case."

Amelia nodded. Hercule admitted that the scenarios he had suggested were somewhat fanciful, but they fitted what facts there were, and they weren't too far-fetched. But then, Amelia frowned. "Wait a moment, Hercule. There was something."

"Yes?"

"Did I ever tell you that Black was heard to mutter, 'he's at Hogwarts' repeatedly, shortly before he escaped?"

Hercule frowned. "Actually, you did mention it in your missive to me. You thought it referred to Harry."

"And like you said, if the first scenario you mentioned is correct, it would. But…if your final scenario is possible…he might not mean Harry. _He might mean Pettigrew_."

Hercule's eyes widened. It wasn't something he had even thought of. Supposing Amelia's supposition was at all correct (and there was no guarantee that it was), it meant, potentially, that a traitor and a murderer could very well be hiding in Britain's top school of magic…

 **CHAPTER 3 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Sorry for the long wait for this one. I was busy with finishing** ** _Hooked on a Feeling_** **and starting** ** _You've Got to Hide Your Love Away_** **, my** ** _Borderlands 2_** **fanfics. I got engrossed in those stories, and in any case, this one was more of an interesting experiment in me writing 'pure' Harry Potter fanfic, so updates will be relatively infrequent. Which is a shame, because I can see how popular it is.**

 **I wanted to bring Umbridge into this partly because Umbridge is one character I absolutely loathe and I wanted to have Hercule Delacour snark at her, and partly because I wanted to think about what she was doing during** ** _The Prisoner of Azkaban_** **. I wanted to explore a little more of her character. Such as it is, anyway. Putting Tonks in was accidental, but appealing, and also gave me some food for thought as to what she was doing during the events of** ** _The Prisoner of Azkaban_** **.**

 **Next chapter, there will be more of Fleur and Harry as they begin their correspondence.**

 **Review-answering time. I won't be answering them all, but to all those who have left praise, thank you kindly. I appreciate it, and am also pleasantly surprised that my story has given you this much pleasure.**

 **Stormbow** **and** **Scott the Wanderer** **both raise the same point, and I'm glad that they noticed. It wasn't something I truly noticed consciously, that wizards and witches follow the loudest voice (and what was that old saying about empty vessels?). That is a thing Muggles like you and I fall prey to as well, unfortunately. It's somewhat more prevalent in magicals for the reasons Scott the Wanderer raised, true, but it's human nature to have a herd mentality. It was less the loudest voice thing, and more of the sheeple mentality that I was going for there.**

 **Cypher** **: While you have a point about my annotations etc, this is my writing style, at least where fanfic is concerned. I have a bad infestation of the footnotes. Sorry.**

 **huntergo123** **: I don't understand what you're talking about. The only character in this story who might conceivably be considered an OC is my take on Fleur's father. Everyone else so far is a canon character.**

 **L-dawg** **: Thank you. As I mentioned in my foreword, David Suchet as Poirot was the big inspiration for my version of Mr Delacour.**

 **Finally,** **Asherit** **and a guest reviewer pointed out some embarrassing mistakes in the previous chapter I had to correct (and which I noted in an edit to that chapter). Asherit's correction was the lesser one: my ignorance of French led to me using 'bon' instead of 'bien', which he claims is more appropriate. The guest, however, pointed out a most embarrassing blunder: I wrote that Susan Bones was Amelia's daughter, not her niece! Gah!**

 **1\. I wondered why it had been so easy for Umbridge to send off a couple of Dementors to attack Harry and Dudley at the beginning of** ** _The Order of the Phoenix_** **. I decided to add this little tidbit.**


	5. Chapter 4: Correspondence

**CHAPTER 4:**

 **CORRESPONDENCE**

Fleur glared at the piece of paper as if daring it to mock her. She perused the letter for every possible mistake. Eventually, she was satisfied with her letter.

She used her own owl for it. That was not fun, declaring your animals to Magical Customs, and having Disillusionment spells and Shrinking spells so that the Muggles wouldn't notice. Her father insisted on taking a Muggle ferry from Calais to Dover, and catching the Knight Bus from there to London. He wanted his daughters to experience as much of Muggle life as possible, so that they wouldn't look out of place.

Fleur understood the reasoning, but having Muggles gawp at her and her mother (her sister, because of her young age, had not developed the Veela allure yet) wasn't exactly a learning experience. She loved her father dearly, but there were times when his good intentions made her want to scream in frustration.

Her owl, Jeanne(1), took the letter, and Fleur opened the window and let her fly out. Now, here was hoping that she might have something to do, before the term at Beauxbatons began again.

She looked out over the city of London as she watched Jeanne fly off into the morning sky. An ugly city at times, but she couldn't deny the history, and some of the beauty of the older buildings. Of course, some of the stuff back home was somewhat pretentious.

It was all about façade, it seemed, and less about what lay within. Especially nowadays. The Muggles had no idea that behind a thin veneer lurked a world of magic and wonder. How many would try to exploit that world? How many would try to wipe it out? And how many would just enjoy the wonder of the magical world?

But in both the worlds of the Muggles, and of Magic, façades lay over the worlds. Hollow righteousness masking hypocrisy. Lies obscuring truth. Beauty hiding an ugly beast within.

That thought made Fleur wince. More than a few girls at school sneered at her for being effortlessly beautiful, calling her a vulture and a harpy, in reference to the more avian form Veela could adopt. Fleur could, potentially, transform, though with anything less than a half-Veela, the likelihood of transformation wasn't that high.

This wasn't to say that she didn't have friends and admirers. But she also had many detractors, who were either jealous of her beauty and talent, or else hated her for being only part-human.

She did not pour out her heart to the Boy Who Lived. But she still made that first step, a first step that so often went wrong, reaching out a hand, metaphorically. Her father had suggested it, and if she was perfectly honest with herself, she _was_ curious about the boy beneath the Boy Who Lived, like her father said. Indeed, this was a boy who was still learning about the Magical World, both in its lighter corners, and its darker ones.

And given that he might be like Juliette, like Gabrielle's friend, in that his guardians didn't treat him properly, perhaps her correspondence would be welcomed…

* * *

Harry was not expecting a letter, at least not from Fleur Delacour. Or indeed, anyone, given how swiftly he had to leave the Dursleys. He was hoping to see Ron and Hermione in Diagon Alley as the time came for Hogwarts students to begin shopping for their supplies, but he didn't know whether he could get a hold of them.

Tom, however, handed him a letter, said it had come to the Leaky Cauldron by owl post, specifically with someone's own personal owl. Harry didn't recognise the elaborate, almost floral handwriting, but he actually hazarded a guess. When he reached the privacy of his room, Harry opened it, and was pleasantly surprised that it had come from Fleur Delacour.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _My father suggested I write you this letter, partly because it would help refine my written English, and partly because he noted that I had an interest in you. Of course, you are the Boy Who Lived. Most of the magical population of the world has an interest in you, something you are probably acutely aware of._

 _Don't I know it_ , Harry thought to himself, before returning to the letter.

 _However, your sentiments regarding those with prejudice against Veela and their offspring was well-received by us. I hope that they are sincere, though you seemed to be. Please do not be offended if this seems like I doubt your integrity. I have fallen victim to insincerity before. I will presume that you were sincere._

Harry winced. He had been sincere last night. But then again, if she had to deal with that sort of bigotry…

 _One thing that I did notice was that you hate attention. Not what I would have expected from the Boy Who Lived, but I understand why. Like you, I know what it is like to deal with unwanted attention. You deal with it because of what happened with You-Know-Who and that night he failed to kill you. I deal with it because, being part-Veela, a combination of my allure and my innate beauty draws the unwanted desire and hatred of others._

Harry, upon reading that, thought back to the events of his second year at Hogwarts, where his Parseltongue ability had alienated him from his fellow students. How it seemed to mark him, at best, as a possible Dark Wizard, and at worst, the Heir of Slytherin.

 _You told me last night that you have a number of best friends, including a Muggleborn. That is good. I hope that they are friends with Harry Potter, and not the Boy Who Lived. Too many of my boyfriends were in love with the part-Veela, and not Fleur Delacour._

 _But enough of such matters. I wrote to you to begin a correspondence. My full name is Fleur Isabelle Delacour. I am sixteen years old. I enjoy many things, including drawing, duelling, history of the Veela, and learning new charms. I have to confess that amongst my hates are fools and bigots, who are too frequently one and the same._

 _I attend Beauxbatons, the premiere school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in France, and indeed much of Europe. Hogwarts deals mainly with the British. I do not know whether you have heard of Durmstrang. It is a controversial school that is noted for an emphasis on the Dark Arts. However, it is also noted as the school that Viktor Krum attends. You may be ignorant of him, so allow me to elucidate: Krum is a famous Quidditch player, something of a prodigy. He plays for Bulgaria as a Seeker._

 _Incidentally, do you play Quidditch? And if so, what position? I am mildly curious. I do not play myself, but I do take interest in the French championships and the results of the World Cup. Actually, I am most annoyed at Bulgaria's mascots, who are Veela, and are shameless in using their allure to allow their team to get their way._

 _I enjoy learning at Beauxbatons. Your school has Professor Dumbledore as Headmaster. Our school has Headmistress Olympe Maxime, a most wonderful woman. Beauxbatons is such a wonderful and beautiful place. You should see the ice statues lining the corridors. How exquisitely beautiful they are!_

 _Alas, I find myself running out of things to say about myself. You have met my family. My father was a former Auror, and my mother works in the French Ministry of Magic in…I believe the nearest term in English would be 'Magical Beings Liaison Department'. It is, frankly, not a department looked at as important by many of the bigots in the world. My sister and I attend Beauxbatons for our learning (it takes in students earlier than at Hogwarts, if you are confused as to why Gabrielle would attend)._

 _Thank you for reading this letter, Harry. I hope for a swift reply._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Fleur Isabelle Delacour_

Harry sat back, and thought about the letter. It was nice of Fleur to write to him. He hadn't liked her vaguely snobbish and haughty attitude last night, but for her to actually go to the effort of writing the letter was something. And at least she understood something of the problems he went through. Ron did tend to have a blind spot in that regard at times.

It wasn't that hard a decision to write a reply. The problem was, what would he put into it?

* * *

It was in the late afternoon when Fleur got a reply to her letter. It came with a most beautiful snowy white owl that Fleur remembered Harry had been keeping with him on the Knight Bus. The letter was written in a slightly untidy scrawl that Fleur found a pain to read and translate in her head. But she read nonetheless.

 _Dear Fleur,_

 _Hi! I wasn't expecting a letter from you, but it was nice of you to do so._

 _As for my comments regarding Veela and their children, I meant them. It hurt a bit that you weren't sure whether I was sincere or not, but I guess I can understand why._

 _And as for being hated for something you can't control, well, besides the whole Boy Who Lived thing, well, let's just say that last year, I learned that an ability I've had for some time was considered to be dark._

 _I'm glad to have some friends at Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione are good ones. Ron's still a bit dazzled by the whole 'Boy Who Lived' thing, while Hermione's a bit more grounded. But both have helped me many times over._

 _Anyway, I'll tell you about myself. I am Harry James Potter (of course), and I turned 13 only recently. I enjoy going to Hogwarts, flying, and learning so much about the Magical World. Like you, I hate bigots, and I especially hate bullies. Unfortunately, Hogwarts has many who are both. One of them is a teacher, our Potions Master, who also seems to have it in especially for me, as he and my father were enemies when they were at Hogwarts. My relatives, whom I stay with, are also like that: my aunt was jealous of my mother going to Hogwarts when she couldn't. They're not pleasant people to live with. They're obsessed with normality, and that aunt I spoke about on the bus is like a Muggle version of a blood-purist._

 _I do actually play Quidditch at Hogwarts, and I love it. I play Seeker for Gryffindor (do you have Houses at Beauxbatons?). But I don't know much about the sport outside Hogwarts, save for reading_ Quidditch Through the Ages _by Kennilworthy Whisp. And Ron's a die-hard Chudley Cannons fan._

 _I'd love to learn more about Beauxbatons. Hogwarts is interesting and full of mystery and secrets, but there's so little I know about the Magical World, especially outside Britain._

 _By the way, could you thank your father for telling me about Sirius Black? A lot of times, people haven't told me things, either because they want to keep things to themselves, or what they think is for my own good. He not only told me about Black, but why I should avoid him._

 _I think my friend Hermione knows some French. I should really see if she can teach me some. I mean, you've gone to all the trouble of writing your letter in English for me._

 _I look forward to your reply._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter_

Fleur nodded as she finished reading the letter. She was surprised to get that much out of him. What was this ability that was considered dark, though? Probably didn't matter. Wizards and witches were remarkably thoughtless when it came to what abilities could be considered dark.

He had been surprisingly forthcoming, if laconic, about what his Muggle relatives were like. She guessed there was more to the story. There often was in cases like this, her parents had told her. That he had divulged as much as he had was surprising.

And he hated bullies and bigots. Well, that was interesting. As was the fact that he was a Seeker. The position of Seeker required someone with sharp wits, keen eyes (his glasses notwithstanding), and good flying skills. But the Potions Master had it in for him? Well, a good Potions Master had to be strict, as it was as dangerous an art as chemistry for Muggles. But that addition of the detail about Harry's father did shed some light on it.

Harry Potter didn't engross Fleur Delacour. But he did interest her. And this correspondence, still in its earliest stages, seemed promising. Perhaps they could be friends.

 **CHAPTER 4 ANNOTATIONS**

 **A short but sweet chapter, dealing with the beginning of Harry and Fleur's correspondence.**

 **I'm not going to deal with all the reviews, but I will answer** **daithi4377** **'s review for the previous chapter. I don't think it's weird at all that Hercule Delacour would unknowingly pick out the correct theory, and that it is Amelia who hits upon some small but notable shred of evidence that may support the correct theory. One of my pet peeves in detective fiction is that all the big breakthroughs seem to be done by a single detective. It's especially irritating in, for example, in** ** _Inspector Morse_** **or** ** _Midsomer Murders_** **where Morse or Barnaby are the ones who always have the eureka moment (though at least Tom Barnaby is a nice guy, whereas Morse seems like he's got a fifty-foot stick where the sun doesn't shine). I know that they're main characters, but police work is more collaborative in real life, and I wanted that to show. Delacour doesn't mind having intelligent input for his cases.**

 **Now, I may not be updating this for a while (sorry, guys), because I'm working on both other fanfics, as well as my normal novel writing. However, I'm on the verge of posting my first episode of** ** _Harry Gainsborough and the Philosopher's Stone_** **, the second full book of** ** _The Cetra Heritage_** **, my crossover between Harry Potter and** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **. Go read the first couple of instalments if you like the sound of it. I will come back to this work, don't fear. Just wait.**

 **EDIT: Trahad of Uru has just pointed out an embarrassing mistake: Quidditch Through the Ages is by Kennilworthy Whisp, not Bathilda Bagshot! And I have no excuse: I have this book on my shelf! Gah!**

 **1\. I decided to plump for cliché here and have Fleur name her owl after Jeanne d'Arc, better-known to English speakers as Joan of Arc.**


	6. Chapter 5: The Dementor on the Train

**CHAPTER 5:**

 **THE DEMENTOR ON THE TRAIN**

The Hogwarts Express: what a quaint little piece of transport. Not that Hercule Delacour minded. After all, he took the Knight Bus with his family, who were currently back home in France, and his daughters specifically on the way back to Beauxbatons. He enjoyed trying new ways of transportation. He even had a driver's licence, valid for both France and Britain, though he rarely used cars himself. One of the few means of transport he truly detested was Muggle aircraft, and even then, it was only because he detested Economy class(1). Packed together like sardines, or like cattle transported to the abattoir, breathing in recycled flatulence and body odour…if he could afford to fly Business or First Class, he would. It was generally better.

The past few weeks had been both immensely productive and intensely frustrating. Part of the reason for the latter was Fudge's very changeable cooperation. He suspected part of the reason to be Umbridge: the Batrachian Bitch (as he had already dubbed her in the privacy of his head(2)) was a blood-purist. Probably not a Death Eater, but certainly someone who'd sympathise with them. And she had many of the bull-headed and ultra-conservative values that went with the blood-purity views.

The galling thing was not whether she believed that Black was guilty or not. Rather, it was the fact that she didn't care, that he had escaped from what she considered his rightful imprisonment in Azkaban, and thus, put a stain on the Ministry's reputation. And she seemed to think that she _was_ the Ministry, more so than the Minister. It was true she probably did most of the actual work of the Minister, but even so, that was a disturbing attitude to take. He recalled the infamous words attributed to Louis XIV of France: _L'Etat, c'est moi_. Or, _I am the State_.

Given what he had learned, Hercule knew it was more important than ever to try and learn more about Sirius Black, and it was to that effect that he intended to ride the Hogwarts Express. He got there early, before the crowds arrived, and made his way through the train, wondering if he could find a certain person beforehand.

As it happened, he did. At the very end of the train sat a tired, shabby wizard, sleeping fitfully. Though fairly young, he seemed older, for reasons Hercule knew, and would endeavour to keep to himself. And there were also the robes, shabby and obviously frequently-repaired. Hercule tutted quietly. Werewolves were dangerous creatures, that much was true. But what should count is the character of the man who becomes the beast. Hercule remembered the prejudices of Muggles against HIV and AIDS, prejudices that still were ongoing in one form or another(3). It was better to take reasonable precautions than ostracise them outright.

Then again, the Wizarding World was full of obstinate men, striving always to keep the status quo. Hercule Delacour, however, took after his fictional namesake: he would act in spite of obstinate men(4). What concerned him was truth and justice, though the latter concerned him somewhat more than the former.

As he sat down, placing his trunk up on the luggage rack, the man opposite him stirred but briefly. Hercule debated waking the man, but he was sure that the full moon wasn't that long ago, and the effects of the transformation were often traumatising on the body.

He did peer briefly at the trunk above the man, if only to confirm indubitably for once and for all what he already knew, that the man he was sharing the compartment with was Remus Lupin. And there it was, on the lid: Professor RJ Lupin. He looked down thoughtfully. Of course, that didn't rule out the possibility that the man in front of him was an impostor. A Metamorphagus, or perhaps a user of Polyjuice Potion.

Hercule smiled slightly to himself. During his time at the Ministry, he had caught up with a man he had met a few times, former Auror Alastor Moody, often known by the _nom de guerre_ 'Mad-Eye', for his artificial magical eye, created to replace one he lost in his duties as an Auror. He still consulted with the DMLE, and had been pulled out of retirement to consult with the DMLE regarding Black. Still ranting about 'constant vigilance', he nonetheless seemed to agree with Hercule about the possibility of Black being innocent.

" _I was amongst those who arrested him_ ," Moody had confided. " _But Crouch persuaded us that it was a cut and dried case, and given how we were, dealing with the mopping-up of all the Death Eaters…_ " He had sighed bitterly. " _If Black does turn out to be innocent…Merlin, but I have some apologising to do. We all do._ "

Hercule nodded to himself as he recalled the conversation. Black's innocence was still in doubt, though not as much as his guilt was now. Amelia's epiphany was chilling and startling, though. Assuming Black was talking about Pettigrew, and not Harry Potter, how had he found out? Harry's name could have been mentioned in passing from an Auror, but how could Pettigrew's name be involved?

He did manage to get one clue: he interviewed the Minister for Magic, as Amelia had noted that Fudge had visited Black not long before Black's obsessed mutterings and his escape. Hercule had managed to beard the lion in his den, so to speak, though Fudge was merely an obstinate fool. It took the best part of half an hour and many interruptions and interjections from the Batrachian Bitch to get Fudge to admit to giving Black a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ , to allow the man to do the crossword. It was possible that, somehow, something on that paper, either a picture or an article, had Black believe that Pettigrew was at Hogwarts.

After managing to wrangle the date of the paper from the man, Hercule asked the company for a back issue, and got one, one which he occasionally opened and looked at. The front page had a photo of the Weasleys, a fairly numerous brood of pureblood wizards and witches, though unlike some pureblood families, they had a fairly liberal attitude towards Muggles. They had won the annual Daily Prophet Grand Galleons Lottery, and had gone on a trip to Egypt at the time.

As he sat there, thinking, he heard the platform outside get ever busier. Children began filling the train. Eventually, the door opened, and three children came through. One of them he had met, none other than Harry Potter himself. Another was one of the Weasley children who had been in that photo from _The Daily Prophet_. The third was a girl with bushy hair and prominent teeth. Presumably these were the friends Fleur had said that Harry mentioned in their correspondence. "Mr Delacour!" Harry said, both delighted and a little dismayed. "Sorry, the other compartments are full. Can we sit here?"

" _Pas de problème_ ," Hercule said magnanimously. "You may if you wish. I do not object, and Professor Lupin is in no state to do so."

As they did so, the girl said, in French, " _Hello, Monsieur Delacour, my name is Hermione Granger_." Her accent was a bit spotty, but no less so than many of his kinsmen speaking English(5).

" _And good morning to you, Hermione_ ," he replied back. " _I am Hercule Delacour, private detective._ "

"Pardon?" It seemed that her French didn't quite extend to that phrase. "Did you mean 'private detective'?" Or maybe she could figure it out.

"Indeed," Hercule said in English with a smile. "I am named for Monsieur Poirot, who himself was based on an ancestor of mine."

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers. "Your ancestor was the basis for Hercule Poirot?!"

"Quietly, please, Hermione." He indicated Lupin, still sleeping.

"Oh, sorry."

Harry, meanwhile, was explaining who Delacour was to Ron, a boy with red hair and a gawky demeanour. A bit of a dullard at first glance, but Hercule could sense a hidden sharpness beneath.

Greetings all around (save for Lupin, who remained just the right side of comatose) ensued, and they began their journey. For a time, the three children occupied themselves with talk of Hogsmeade, Harry bemoaning the fact that his permission slip hadn't been signed. The conversation was somewhat derailed briefly when a Sneakoscope went off within Harry's trunk, and had to be hastily muffled. There was also a brief argument when Hermione opened up her cat carrier: apparently the cat, Crookshanks, an ugly thing with a face that looked like someone had smashed it face-first into a wall, had tried to attack Ron's own pet rat.

"That cat," Hercule mused. "I think it may very well be part-Kneazle."

Ron's eyes widened, Hermione looked delighted, and Harry…looked a little bemused, until Hermione, after chiding him for not reading his books, explained Kneazles. Intelligent cats that often could tell how trustworthy a person was.

Conversation, eventually, turned to another subject. "So, Harry, you are enjoying correspondence with my daughter?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "I mean…she's a bit…" He hesitated, obviously trying to find a word that wouldn't offend Hercule.

"I believe that she has high standards, if that is what you mean," Hercule said lightly. "But I daresay she is enjoying her correspondence with you. She seems more beautiful than ever, which is saying something, considering she is part-Veela."

Ron's eyes widened again. "Your daughter is part-Veela? Have you got a Veela wife?"

"No, no, no," Hercule chuckled good-naturedly, entirely unoffended by the boy's blunt and frankly rude question. He'd endured far worse. "I have a Veela _mother-in-law_. My most beautiful wife is half-Veela, and my two daughters, Fleur and Gabrielle, are quarter-Veela. Fleur is the one Harry is corresponding with. It helps her hone her English, and it also gives her someone to talk to, especially someone who understands the difference between appearance and reality."

Ron then got into a brief argument with Harry. Ron and Hermione had been told about Fleur, it seemed, but not the details. There was a certain envious streak in the redhead that made Hercule pause for thought. Then again, coming from a relatively poor family, maybe it was Ron believing Harry sometimes got all the luck, something Harry didn't actually have. However, the two managed to work it out. Harry had also managed to persuade Ron that Fleur wasn't his girlfriend. Then again, judging by the way that Harry protested just a touch too much, and the way that Fleur began to act lately since beginning the correspondence, Hercule wondered whether the seeds for such a relationship hadn't already been planted.

As the train moved ever northward, the weather outside became more and more grim. Damned British weather, Hercule cursed quietly to himself. He had occasional conversations in French with Hermione, who had been holidaying in France with her parents recently. The girl was fairly good, although she didn't know a few terms here and there. He asked her to consider teaching Harry the language. She shrugged, saying that they tended to be unmotivated in learning some subjects, unless exams were coming up, or else they had to research something threatening their lives.

He found that last remark somewhat curious. Then again, Dumbledore had told him something of the events that occurred last year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened again. None of the details, but apparently a student, possessed by a dark object, unleashed a Basilisk. It was Harry who had managed to track down the creature and slay it. Gilderoy Lockhart was exposed as a fraud, albeit one who had lost his memory to a memory charm. He was currently in St Mungo's.

Still, Hermione had enjoyed her holiday in France, and Hercule regaled her with tales of Beauxbatons. He also noticed Harry looking at Lupin curiously, seemingly debating whether to wake the poor man up. Ah yes, Hercule had mentioned that Lupin had been a friend of Harry's father, back at the Leaky Cauldron. "Let him sleep, Harry," Hercule said quietly. And Harry nodded.

Then, a most unwelcome intrusion arrived. A trio of children, led by a blonde-haired boy with a pointed face, entered the compartment. Hercule recognised him, or at least the family. He had seen Lucius Malfoy more than a few times around the Ministry while he was there. The boy was Draco, with a pair of bodyguard-like boys flanking him Hercule learned later were called Crabbe and Goyle. And Malfoy began by taunting Ron about the money the Weasleys won. As Ron stood, Hercule put a restraining hand on the boy's arm, and then stood. "Is this how a pureblood acts, hmm?" he asked the Malfoy boy mildly. "With rudeness and contempt, rather than politeness and nobility?"

"And who are you?" Draco sneered contemptuously.

"Hercule Delacour," Hercule said.

"Oh, the private detective," Draco sneered again. "The one who has a half-breed wife, and half-breed daughters."

Hercule smiled thinly. Presumably the boy's father had told Draco about Hercule. He calmed himself. It would not do to lose composure to this entitled brat. He then turned to Hermione. In French, he said, " _It's a shame one like him does not realise the dangers of inbreeding, no?_ "

" _No, sir_ ," Hermione replied, smiling despite herself. " _I'm glad someone understand that._ "

" _Well, unfortunately, more than a few share this idiotic bigot's views. But it is a bad faith to follow._ " He smiled when he saw Hermione giggle. In French, 'bad faith' translated to 'mal foi'(6). A bad pun, but who cared?

"What did you just say about me to the Mudblood?" Malfoy demanded.

That slur in particular inflamed Hercule's anger almost as much as the slur on his wife and daughters did. He had had enough of this brat. "That you are a fool and a bully, young man, and that you are an idiot to attempt to bully an adult wizard and a former Auror, or anyone in their vicinity," Hercule said, standing and approaching the boy. "Vacate this compartment forthwith."

"You can't threaten me! My father…!" Malfoy said, backing away

"Is a rich and powerful man, yes, I know. I do not care. _Au revoir_ ," he said. Once Malfoy and his goons were outside the carriage, he slammed the doors shut with a contemptuous gesture. He began muttering expletives in French until he remembered Hermione. "My apologies," he said in English.

"He has that effect on a lot of people," Hermione said.

It was sometime later, when it began to rain, that the train, for some reason, ground to a halt. While they weren't that far from Hogsmeade Station, and thus Hogwarts, it was still too early for them to arrive. Then, the lights went out. Almost immediately, Hercule went for his wand, and cast Lumos. A pair of other students came in shortly after Harry looked out. One was Ginny Weasley, the younger sister of Ron, and the other, a plump boy, turned out to be Neville Longbottom. "What's going on?" hissed the students.

"I have a very nasty suspicion," Hercule murmured.

"Quiet," a hoarse voice sounded from nearby. Hercule realised that Lupin was now awake and alert, and adding to the Lumos spell with a handful of magical flames.

"Ah, so you are now awake, Professor," Hercule observed quietly.

"And you must be the French detective Dumbledore told me about," Lupin replied.

Before anything else could be said, the door slid open, opened by a hand that looked like it belonged to a long-dead corpse, fished from the water. For a moment, Hercule froze in fear. That damned fool Fudge had actually gone ahead with his imbecilic plan! The cloaked and hooded figure of a Dementor was framed in the doorway. Then, the creature inhaled, the breath of it rattling. The children began to quiver and whimper. Harry slumped over in a dead faint, shuddering and convulsing. Hercule felt every bad memory dredged up by the beast's foul inhalation, memories he struggled to ignore.

It was Lupin who recovered first. "None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks," he said firmly at the creature, hiding his fear well. "Go."

The creature turned its hidden head to look at Lupin. It didn't speak, but Hercule felt the contempt coming off it in waves.

"Away with you, monster!" Hercule snarled, waving his wand in synchronisation with Lupin's own wand. Simultaneously, they said " _Expecto patronum!_ "

A blast of silver mist emitted from each wand, and the Dementor was repulsed. With a thwarted hiss, it glided away.

"Thank you," Hercule said to Lupin. "I have never actually encountered one before. It is not an experience I enjoy."

"No, thank _you_ ," Lupin said, as he checked the children. "Two Patronuses are better than one."

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong with him?"

"Dementors," Hercule snarled angrily. "They dredge up the worst memories from your mind. Suck the happiness from you. Living, malevolent embodiments of depression. But Harry had a worse reaction than most. It is not unheard of to faint, but it is a rare reaction."

As Ron and Hermione went to work on reviving Harry, Hercule felt his face twist into an angry snarl. Fudge, in his idiocy, was condemning the students of Hogwarts to have to deal with these hideous creatures! And the boy Fudge was trying to protect from Black was probably the one who had the worst reaction to them.

 _Damn you, Fudge! Damn you, Umbridge!_ Hercule bellowed in the privacy of his own head. _Imbeciles and incompetents and just plain malicious irritants! I will not let you thwart justice. I need to know the truth!_

 **CHAPTER 5 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And I'm back with this story after a long absence. This story is a relatively low-priority one for me. Ironic, considering it is probably the most popular of my stories (in terms of favourites and follows) on this website. Then again, Harry Potter fanfics in general seem to be very popular. Hopefully, the next chapter will be a bit quicker at least, but don't hold your breath.**

 **For the next chapter, we're back to Harry. We might switch back and forth between Harry and Hercule, true, but the emphasis will be on Harry.**

 **Review-answering time. Note that I cannot and will not answer all reviews, but I thank you for your praise and enjoyment all the same.**

 **diagonalpumkin** **: Thanks. There's a lot of claiming to be the definitive or premiere service, product, institution, etc. It's all really a load of hyperbole, I reckon.**

 **Thisissupposedtobeblank** **: Actually, Petunia's jealousy is made clear in the very first book. She rails against how her parents were proud of Lily. And by the way, it's been over a month since I posted the last chapter. So there. :P**

 **Rapidashponyta** **: You mean with my avatar? It's of Ace beating the crap out of a Dalek with a modified baseball bat from** ** _Doctor Who: Remembrance of the Daleks_** **. I got the image from a link on TV Tropes.**

 **Klaw117** **: I probably won't finish this story, and certainly not anytime soon if I do manage it. This one was meant to be more of an experiment than anything else. Hell, I'm amazed that my account has four completed stories so far: the first two stories of my** ** _Harry Potter_** **and** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **crossover, the Cetra Heritage Saga, and the first two stories of my** ** _Borderlands_** **fanfic, the Ballad of Ricky and Angel. If inspiration strikes for my non-fanfic writing, then obviously that's going to take a priority.**

 **That being said, I am striving to make a Harry/Fleur* pairing that isn't really OOC. They're not suddenly going to fall in love. This will be a fairly slow-burn romance that begins as a friendship.**

 **As for your comment regarding the accents, I am merely worried that I might not be able to do it consistently enough. So I thought it better just to write the dialogue and point out the accent. I do bring some of it across: whenever Hercule or the others speak in English, they have few if any contractions. I also think the accent in the books does seem stereotypical.**

 **Thanks everyone for your reviews and kind words. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

 **1\. I do too. I have long, lanky legs, makes it hard for me to sit comfortably in Economy class on flights.**

 **2\. I dunno whether anyone has ever called Umbridge the Batrachian Bitch before, but it's suitable. Batrachian means toad or toad-like. If nobody's thought of the term, I hope I have coined a new fandom neologism for the Umbitch.**

 **3\. This story is set in 1993. People forget how badly people infected with HIV were prejudiced against. I recall that Isaac Asimov contracted the illness through a blood transfusion (during a heart operation) from an infected person, and kept the knowledge secret for some years because of the anti-AIDS sentiment. I also seem to recall reading somewhere that David Thewlis, the actor who played Lupin, actually made the choice to portray the character as the magical equivalent of an AIDS sufferer.**

 **4\. Title drop! :P**

 **5\. I'd imagine Hermione knows a lot of French, but her accent still needed work. It's to show that just because people who speak other countries can't speak English without an accent, doesn't mean that the reverse isn't true at all.**

 **6\. I couldn't resist pointing this out, given that we have a French character in the story.**

 ***Drawpaw, a reviewer to this chapter, pointed out that they got confused when I wrote Harry/Luna instead! D'oh! That's the pairing I'm going for with the Cetra Heritage Saga. I've corrected it. _  
**


	7. Chapter 6: Harry's Musings

**CHAPTER 6:**

 **HARRY'S MUSINGS**

 _Well_ , Harry Potter thought to himself as he picked at his food at the Welcoming Feast. _That was an unpleasant experience_.

Which was a considerable understatement. As the Dementor (as Lupin and Hercule had identified it as afterwards) entered, it seemed to inhale a vast, rattling breath. And then, things had gotten so cold, a roaring rushing filled his ears, and then, so too did the pleading screams of a woman…

He had woken up on the floor of the compartment, Ron and Hermione waking him up, looking extremely worried. So too did Ginny and Neville. Hercule Delacour looked absolutely furious, and for a moment, the normally jovial, good-natured man seemed more frightening than even the Basilisk Harry had killed last year. Lupin looked shaken, but was snapping a bar of chocolate, which turned out to be a remedy for the effects of Dementor exposure.

After going to see the driver, and coming back, Lupin asked Harry if he was all right. Harry nodded. Perhaps if he hadn't known Lupin was a friend of his father's, he might have wondered how the man knew his name. He had all sorts of questions he wanted to ask Lupin now that the man was awake, but Harry was still feeling the after-effects of the Dementor exposure. He also felt shame at having gone to pieces like that. He had faced down Voldemort and his puppet Quirrell back in first year, and a Basilisk the year before that. Both were extraordinarily frightening things, but he hadn't reacted like that.

He realised, with a chill, what that meant. The Dementors were something else entirely. He remembered Apolline Delacour's words about them. He remembered how frightened Hagrid had been, not wanting to be taken into custody at Azkaban. Now he could see why. Vile, evil things, and implacable, too. He wondered what would have happened if Hercule and Lupin hadn't repulsed them. Hercule had told Harry that they had used Patronus spells.

They had taken horseless carriages (Harry hadn't seen them the first two years for different reasons) to the castle, where Malfoy tried to taunt Harry for fainting, having gotten the story out of Neville. But Hercule and Lupin arrived before Malfoy could provoke a fracas, and Hercule said something in French that caused Hermione to giggle. Malfoy left, unwilling to do anything in front of adults, but both Harry and Hermione were taken away by McGonagall to her office. Hermione had told Harry that Hercule had said, in French, that doubtless Malfoy had soiled himself in the presence of the Dementors.

McGonagall and Pomphrey had made a fuss all over him, at least until he pointed out Lupin had given him chocolate. He shared their anger over the Ministry sending these creatures here. Once he left the office with Pomphrey, while McGonagall discussed something private with Hermione, he said to her, "Is it common for people to faint around Dementors?"

"Common, no, but mark my words, Potter, like I said to Minerva, you won't be the last one to collapse. Damned Ministry…Black may be dangerous, but that's no excuse to turn Hogwarts into Azkaban!"

After waiting outside the office for Hermione, they went back to the Feast. They'd missed the Sorting, and Harry could feel the eyes of the students on him acutely. It seemed the rumour mill had worked fast. Did a good chunk of the school already know?

Ron had saved them both seats, and Harry listened as Dumbledore made a series of announcements prior to the Feast. The warning about Dementors was expected, though Harry noted that Dumbledore specifically pointed out that they weren't fooled by Invisibility Cloaks. He then introduced two new teachers: Lupin and Hagrid. Harry was disturbed to note, when Ron pointed out, that Snape looked murderously at Lupin, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. If looks could kill, Lupin would be a gooey, steaming mess on the floor.

Then again, perhaps it wasn't so surprising. Harry knew that Snape coveted the DADA position. But he also knew that Snape had hated his father. And if Lupin had been a friend of Harry's father…

Hagrid's appointment as new teacher of Care of Magical Creatures was very well-received. Harry was glad that he had a teaching position, especially after being framed for the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. Both of them.

Harry noted that Hercule Delacour was also seated at the High Table. Dumbledore then said, "Some of the more observant amongst you has noticed another new face amongst us. It is my great pleasure to introduce Monsieur Hercule Delacour, a consulting detective of some renown from France. He has been retained by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to investigate certain matters relating to the escape of Sirius Black. I would ask that you treat him with the respect any member of Hogwarts staff is due, and cooperate with him if he requires any help."

Not that he would get much respect from some quarters. Harry felt that Snape was due no such respect from himself or his friends, and many in Slytherin, he knew, would treat Hagrid with no respect. Given how Malfoy looked down on Hercule for having a half-Veela wife…well, Hercule would get little help from any ally of Malfoy's within Slytherin. Maybe a few in the House might help him, if they thought it would benefit them: Harry was beginning to see some Slytherins who worked outside of Malfoy's influence.

After that announcement, Dumbledore announced that the Feast had begun. Harry found himself picking at his food listlessly, think about what had happened. First Aunt Marge, then Sirius Black escaping Azkaban, and now the Dementors.

As he crammed his face full of food, Ron said, "So, Harry, tell us about this Veela girl you've been seeing."

"I only met her once, Ron," Harry said. "We've been exchanging letters, though."

"Is she beautiful?"

"Well, yes. Amazingly so. But she was a bit snooty. A bit superior," Harry said. "But she was all right. I found it hard to take my eyes off her, though. It was probably the allure."

"You mean that glamour thing Veela use? Merlin, don't tell me she's bewitched you, mate. Or maybe she slipped you some Amortentia potion."

"Ron, don't be silly," Hermione interjected. "If she did either of those things, Harry wouldn't be able to say those things about her."

"And it's not just that," Harry said, thinking back to his correspondence with Fleur. "She's so beautiful, it's like she's cursed. When she gets boyfriends, she's worried it's her allure or Veela looks that attract them, and…well, not her. Not Fleur the person. And many girls and some boys call her nasty names. The only one I can repeat is hussy, really."

Hermione flinched. "It must be…hard for her," she said.

"Why would it be?" Ron asked. "She could have any guy she wanted."

"Oh, Ron, sometimes you're so dense," Hermione said, exasperated. "It's like with Harry. People see him as the Boy Who Lived, as the saviour of the wizarding world. How many people want to befriend the Boy Who Lived, and not Harry Potter?"

Ron seemed to get it. In fact, it seemed like he had a flash of introspection. "Like me…" he murmured.

"Ron, you're not like that," Harry said. "You're a good friend, and the first friend I've had my age. I mean, you came with me to save the Philosopher's Stone along with Hermione, we went to find the Chamber of Secrets together…who else but a good friend would do that?"

"I guess…" Ron said sheepishly. "Just wish I could get a Veela to notice me."

"If she knows a chess-playing relative on her mother's side, I'll ask her to set you two up," Harry said facetiously.

* * *

After the Feast had ended, Harry, Ron, and Hermione went to congratulate Hagrid, who seemed effusive about being a teacher. Then, they were shooed away by McGonagall.

They were escorted up to Gryffindor Tower by Percy, who had been made Head Boy. Harry got the feeling he was becoming more pompous now. And he felt sorry for Neville when the next password, Fortuna Major, was spoken. The poor guy didn't have much luck remembering them.

Hogwarts felt more like home to Harry than living at the Dursleys ever did, he reflected as he got ready for bed. And in the wake of the whole Marge affair and his encounter with Hercule and his family, Harry had to wonder, why did Dumbledore leave him with the Dursleys? He could understand maybe wanting to avoid the fame of his position as the Boy Who Lived. But why not, then, leave him with another Muggle couple? One who Dumbledore trusted?

Hercule's comments had led Harry to question many assumptions. Dumbledore himself had hinted at a reason he wasn't ready to trust Harry with after that whole debacle with the Philosopher's Stone. Dumbledore was an intelligent wizard, and Harry trusted him…but after Marge, Harry began to wonder whether that trust should be as unconditional as it was. It wasn't that he thought Dumbledore was bad…he just hated lacking possession of all the facts. Especially if someone was withholding them deliberately.

And it wasn't just that. For all Dumbledore's power, he had been forced to allow the Dementors to be here. Wasn't he also head of some of the Wizarding World's top organisations? Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock, or something like that? He needed to look those up. So how could he allow this to happen? It meant that some of Dumbledore's power was less than he had thought. And that scared him.

With an effort, he turned his mind to a happier topic: Fleur. Over the course of the time spent before heading to Hogwarts, he had exchanged a number of letters with her. Her last letter was sent shortly before he went to Hogwarts, and they had already become a little less frequent, given that she had gone back to France. But the last one was to say she was heading back to Beauxbatons.

Harry had to admit, he was coming to view her as a friend, despite their short acquaintance. It was probably because, despite the somewhat awkward nature of their first meeting, her first letter was…nice. A bit stiff and formal in some regards (Harry didn't know whether it was her nature, or her lack of ease with English, or perhaps both), and she had doubted his sincerity about detesting those who hated Veela, but there was also a baring of her heart. Only a bit, but she had divulged some things to him that she may have found it hard to do so. And in doing so, she began to draw Harry Potter out as well.

True, she had reached out to him because he was the Boy Who Lived…but it was because she was curious about the person behind the myth. He had no compunction about that. If she actually wanted to know who Harry Potter was, then he could live with that. And she was interesting too, once the whole thing about Veela allure went away. Her father came from a family that had inspired a number of fictional detectives, and was himself an intelligent and perceptive man. Her mother was half-Veela in a world filled with people who envied and despised Veela and their offspring, and worked hard to help her kind, as well as other magical hybrids or beings. But there was a culture of a different species entirely, one that could interbreed with humans. Harry had only gotten hints about that from Fleur, but it was interesting and fascinating. Hell, Fleur even admitted that her wand contained a hair from her grandmother, a full-blooded Veela. It was apparently a tradition of Veela who had part-human offspring to give these hairs to their descendants as wand cores: normally, they were too temperamental for the task, but for their descendants, it would work wonders.

In a way, Harry and Fleur were alike in more ways than you'd think. They straddled two worlds, and had expectations and preconceptions forced upon them because of circumstances beyond their control. Harry was the Boy Who Lived, a halfblood wizard who hadn't even known of magic being real until he was eleven, lauded as a hero for something he didn't do, and feared because of his Parseltongue. Fleur was the part-Veela, looked on as a thief of men, desired and shunned in equal measure for being born with bewitching beauty.

She wasn't a girlfriend, not by any means. But he hoped she would be a friend, and a good friend.

* * *

That night, he had a dream. He was walking down a sandy, sun-kissed beach, hand in hand with Fleur. He was older by some years, in his late teens. They were both dressed for the beach, him in trunks, and she in this rather elegant one-piece swimsuit.

They didn't speak. They just walked in silence, hand-in-hand, down the beach. Enjoying each other's company. Listening to the susurration of waves against the shore. The sound of the sand crunching beneath their feet. The call of birds overhead.

At some point, they stopped, letting go of each other, and turning to face each other. _So elegant and so beautiful_ , Harry thought. _How do I have a chance with someone like her?_

As if in reply, she gently took his head in his hands, and brought his face towards her own. Their lips met. It was no passionate, throbbing kiss, filled with lust, merely a simple, prolonged contact, a quiet and gentle intimacy, of lips touching lips.

Unfortunately, the moment was ruined when Harry woke up. But the feeling of Fleur's lips in the dream lingered, and he gently touched his lips with his fingers. With a resigned sigh, he got out of bed, not quite ready to face the day. She may become a friend, but he wasn't sure he had a chance with her…

 **CHAPTER 6 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Wow, another chapter out so quickly. You guys are lucky. I got some inspiration for this chapter, wrote it up quickly, and, well, here you are. Hope you like.**

 **Now, further chapters will probably be some time coming. Like I said,** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **is more of an experiment in pure Harry Potter fanfic for me, and I have other fanfics to work on. If you're lucky, I might have inspiration for another chapter before long, but otherwise, you will have to be patient. I know that's a dirty word on the internet, but still…well, remember what Sander Cohen from** ** _BioShock_** **said: "** ** _My muse is a fickle bitch, with a short attention span!_** **"**

 **BTW, sorry if the dream sequence is a bit awkward. I'm not good with romantic scenes, and I wasn't going to ruin the story by making it a wet dream either. But I wanted to plant the seeds of the Harry/Fleur relationship's future. And if you're wondering why Harry thinks he has no chance with her, keep in mind that even in canon, Harry is somewhat self-effacing. The treatment of the Dursleys probably didn't help his self-esteem either. Plus, his circle of friends is small and only recently made. Not to mention the fact that Ron is more or less correct: Fleur, if she chose, could pick any man she wished. In this story, it will be Harry, rest assured of that.**

 **You'll also notice that, unlike in canon, Harry's beginning to question Dumbledore's infallibility. This is partly because of Hercule Delacour revealing information to Harry that has been kept from him. Keep in mind, though, that this won't be a Dumbledore-bashing fic. Dumbledore will be a heavily flawed character, yes, but he is ultimately trying his best for Magical Britain. However, he is also one of the obstinate men of the title. Ron, too, will have a few jealousy fits, but he will still be Harry's friend throughout this story. I actually gave him that little epiphany during the Feast, but also pointed out (through Harry) his good points. I prefer reconstructing these characters, as compared to just deconstructing them. I don't want them to be taken apart, but rather, to be put together, better than before.**

 **Review-answering time:** **minerdude** **: Asimov's family only revealed it some years after his death, after attitudes had changed. Sad but true.**

 **daithi4377** **: In canon, Pomphrey does point out that Harry will probably not be the only one to collapse. But you're right, he has gone through more than a kid should at his age.**

 **Stormbow** **: I might consider that, but while I had intended to have Pettigrew caught earlier than in canon, that wasn't the method I had thought of. Then again, I hadn't thought of any method yet. I tend to write by the seat of my pants.**

 **paladin3030** **: Thanks. I do sort of hear Suchet's voice (or rather, the one he uses as Poirot) when I write Hercule Delacour.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: Glad to see you liked my neologism. I sincerely hope I am the first person to coin the term 'Batrachian Bitch' to apply to Umbridge. As for Hercule losing his cool with Draco, it was someone with the same attitudes as Draco who ended Hercule's career as the French equivalent of an Auror. I mentioned this in the first chapter. Unlike Hercule's nemesis in the French DMLE, Draco is also the child of a Death Eater. He hates the terms used by Draco with impunity, and had to restrain himself from punching the little POS.**

 **Ariel Night** **: Thank you very much for your assessment. My beginning was a bit contrived, but no less so than the examples you mentioned. I also get annoyed with 'love at first sight' stories in fanfic or normal fic. Love at first sight is, at best, a rare occurrence in real life. It's usually lust and/or infatuation. And I agree with your assessment of allure immunity. Harry is less affected than many, though. That's partly because he only just hit puberty relatively recently, and partly because he tries to be a decent person.**

 **Your assessment of Fleur is also spot-on. I think I read one or two fics where her snobbish and aloof attitude is a reaction to her being basically lusted after half the time. I decided to extrapolate from that, which is why she feels a kinship with Harry: they both have very public perceptions of them that don't quite match the people behind them.**

 **JukedSolid** **: It's less that I don't intend to finish, and more like I probably won't. If I can finish it, I will. But it's less of a priority for me than other works which take my fancy. Consider yourself lucky to get two chapters in about as many days. I'm glad you think so highly of my work, though. I'm very grateful that you to consider my work top-drawer, and I thank you for your compliments.**

 **Axcel** **: I have no idea. Personally, I'd think a Dementor would shrug it off, go 'meh', and get back to imbibing the happiness of those present.**

 **Holmes** **: I don't know the reputation of French beaches, though I can infer from your comment. As for the rest of the comment, I'm not sure what you mean. Hermione will probably help Harry in learning how to treat a woman properly, psychologically speaking. Anything else, I dunno, and I probably won't write.**

 **EmeraldGuardian7** **: Hope your story goes well. :)**

 **No numbered annotations this time.**


	8. Chapter 7: Fondness and Friends

**CHAPTER 7:**

 **FONDNESS AND FRIENDS**

Fleur Delacour had been in the dreams of many a man. It was her nature as a part-Veela, and it was something she had learned to endure, to put up a façade of _sang-froid_. Had she known that she had featured in a dream of Harry's, she would have probably dismissed it as being depressingly normal.

Even so, he did feature prominently in her thoughts of late, even as she came back to learning at Beauxbatons. Not enough to be distracted: History was the lesson she was currently in, and they had gotten onto the Second World War, and how Grindlewald had been part of the power behind Hitler. It was all very interesting stuff. In some parts of Eastern Europe, however, the sign of the Deathly Hallows had become as much a sign for evil as the swastika had become for Muggles the world over. Ironically, both had once been good luck charms, symbols of good irrevocably perverted to evil(1). The swastika by the Nazis, and the sign of the Hallows by Grindlewald.

But even as the teacher discussed how Grindlewald influenced the Nazis through the Thule Society(2), Fleur found part of her mind going back to Harry. Readily in the Top Ten of famous living Wizards and Witches in the Magical World in one of the magazines she subscribed to. Certainly the youngest on the list. You had Nicholas Flamel (rumours claimed that he died recently, but no confirmation had been made(3)), Dumbledore, Grindlewald, Viktor Krum (who got on the list mainly because of his youth and prodigious skills in Quidditch), and a few others she didn't care to recall. Famous mostly for being famous, those ones she didn't care to recall.

Then again, his fame was assured for the role he played in stopping Voldemort when he was an infant. But this was something anyone who actually thought critically (a rarity in both magical and mundane society) would question, and Fleur thanked all that was good that her father instilled that much into her. How could an infant survive the infamous Killing Curse? Voldemort had presumably killed children of all ages before if he wished to. In all likelihood, something his parents did.

She had avoided asking Harry about the matter in her letters to him. Blunt she may be, but to lose one's parents at a young age was appalling. And if his comments about his relatives were any guide, it was made even worse by them.

She had nothing to complain about from her own family, on either side. But she knew all too well that she was lucky to have a caring family. Even before the whole mess with Juliette, her father often spoke of cases involving broken families. Of course, seeing it happen with Juliette and watching as Gabrielle lost a friend was heartbreaking. The poor girl had parents who basically wanted her to overachieve, pushing her to breaking point so that she could become, at least in their delusional expectations, a prodigy. Her father had investigated discreetly, but Juliette's parents, when they realised that Hercule Delacour was investigating them, raised a stink and removed Juliette from Beauxbatons. Gabrielle was inconsolable. It was as if her friend had been murdered(4). Though in a way, Juliette was being murdered by degrees, her physical and psychological well-being eroding away by her parents' ambitions.

It was a different problem with Harry's aunt and uncle. She had managed to get him to open up a little, and he confessed that at school (prior to Hogwarts), he was forced to keep his grades lower than his cousin's, lest he be punished for showing up their perfect son. Said perfect son, of course, was a spoiled, fat brat. His aunt was jealous of his mother's magic, which was part of the reason for her treatment. His uncle was a blustering bully, and his sister, the aunt he had inflated, was the Muggle equivalent of a blood-purist.

Fleur was sure that there were worse families than that, but she didn't know any off-hand.

But by all accounts, he enjoyed his time at Hogwarts immensely, though he alluded to a number of incidents. He had apparently been involved during the Chamber of Secrets incident during the previous school year, and had also caught a dark wizard who had been masquerading as a teacher, who was trying to steal something valuable from Hogwarts. He said he had to leave things out of the letters, as he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to mention some things.

To have braved such dangers…Fleur got the feeling that the boy, far from boasting about his achievements, was actually understating them massively. She had noticed his unease with his fame. Then again, it was probably because he had had to face such dangers as young as he had. She almost thought 'little boy'(5), but in truth, she was only a few years his senior.

* * *

At lunch, one of Fleur's best friends approached. Marie Remi was one of the few people Fleur felt comfortable around, at least as far as relaxing her more controlled attitude towards. It was said that she was a distant relative of the famous Belgian cartoonist, Georges Remi, better known by his nom de plume, Hergé. The redheaded Muggleborn girl even seemed a bit like a female Tintin, albeit without the quiff. She had that same earnest, straightforward demeanour, although she was also very relaxed with her language and manner, often lacking what some people called deportment. Fleur liked her, though. " _Hey, Fleur_ ," she said. " _You've been looking a bit distracted lately._ "

" _Have I?_ " Fleur asked.

" _Yeah. Hey, have you finally found a boy who doesn't drool over you like some dog?_ " Marie asked.

" _Why do you say that, Marie?_ " Fleur asked.

Marie smirked. " _Well, you looked like you had something on your mind. Plus, Gabby told my little sis about the letters you've been sending to a boy you met in England. Didn't say who he was, though._ "

After a moment's consideration, Fleur said, " _He values his privacy. He's a bit on the shy side. Besides, we're just exchanging letters. We've only met the once._ "

" _Oooh, is he handsome? Nice? Intelligent? C'mon, Fleur, spill!_ " Marie said.

Fleur froze, hoping for anything, anything to deliver her from this awkward situation.

At first, it seemed that deliverance was at hand: an owl swooped into the Hall, one she recognised as her father's. It had two letters clutched in its claws, letters it delivered. She handed it some food, which it took gratefully, and then opened one of them up.

" _My father has written_ ," Fleur said, not noticing that her friend was peering curiously at the other letter. " _Apparently that idiot Fudge sent Dementors to guard Hogwarts from Black. He did say that Fudge was going to do it, but they apparently boarded the train taking him to Hogwarts. One of the students actually collapsed._ " She deliberately omitted Harry's name.

" _And who is this from?_ " Marie asked, tapping the other envelope.

Fleur's eyes widened when she recognised Harry's handwriting on it. " _Hey, give that back, Marie!_ "

" _Hey, I just want to know who it's from, that's all_ ," Marie said. " _So, come on. Spill._ "

Fleur glared at Marie, before saying. " _After lunch. And I'll thank you to give me back my_ _ **private**_ _correspondence._ "

" _Tch. No need to be rude, Fleur_ ," Marie said with a shrug, handing the letter back over.

Fleur read both letters. They had been sent yesterday, with today being the third of September. Harry was understandably unnerved by his first encounter with Dementors. He'd also been to his first classes: Divination and Transfiguration (he had written the letter during his lunch break), and had his death predicted in the former class, with the teacher, one Professor Trelawney, seeing the Grim in his cup. Yet another unnerving event, if any be needed, though Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, had reassured the class by stating that Trelawney did so every year. Harry finished off by saying that he was about to go and attend his first class of Care of Magical Creatures, taught by Hagrid, the groundskeeper, and a man whom he seemed to consider a friend. Her father, who was still at the school, had offered to allow the use of his owl.

All very well and proper, but now she had to explain to Marie that she was exchanging letters with the Boy Who Lived. Marie was a bit of a gossip, though Fleur also knew that she could be trusted to keep a secret. More than once, Marie had helped Fleur out by keeping a secret. So she was trustworthy. But would it be enough?

* * *

After lunch, they walked the grounds of Beauxbatons Palace, deliberately choosing the more open areas to see whether there were any potential eavesdroppers. Finally, Fleur admitted, " _The boy I am corresponding with is Harry Potter._ "

Marie's response was surprising. Her eyes did widen briefly, but she refrained from yelping in surprise. Eventually, she said, " _Wait…the Boy Who Lived? The boy who, supposedly, when he was a baby, survived the Killing Curse and vanquished Voldemort?_ "

" _Yes. That Harry Potter_."

Marie blinked for a bit. " _Fleur_ …" she said after a moment's hesitation, " _are you sure it was him?_ "

" _Marie, believe me, he doesn't want to be the Boy Who Lived_ ," Fleur said. " _He's pretty wary of his fame. And he had that scar on his forehead, too. Plus, you'd think that after the Killing Curse, he'd be immune to my allure. He wasn't, though he wasn't drooling like an idiot._ "

Fleur explained how they had met. The Knight Bus, the Leaky Cauldron, the beginning of an exchange of letters. And at the end of it all, Marie was shaking her head.

" _Well, of all the people in Britain to be friends with_ …" the girl said. " _Sorry I doubted you, Fleur, but there's sure to be more than a few impostors of the Boy Who Lived. And if he was an impostor, it'd be more likely that he wants to go further than he already is, anyway. Sounds like a sweet guy._ " She frowned, thinking to herself. " _Even so, I still find a lot of his story hard to believe. Not from him, personally, but, well, how the hell did he survive the Killing Curse? As far as I know, the only way to survive the Killing Curse is to either get out of the way, or else have something solid between you and the curse. There's no known magical countermeasures._ "

" _But there may be others_ ," Fleur said. " _I know what you're saying, Marie. Since I started corresponding with him, I've been asking myself these very same questions. I haven't tried to ask Harry, though. He lost his parents that night. He even remembers it very vaguely. In one of his letters, he said he used to dream of a high, cold laugh and a green light._ "

Marie's eyes went wide. " _The Killing Curse shines green! But how can he remember that?_ "

" _I don't know. He lives with Muggles, but they're not nice ones_ ," Fleur said. " _I told you he had to flee his home when one of his aunts insulted his parents. It is a wonder he believes not every Muggle is like that. The woman sounds like a Muggle blood purist._ "

" _Figures_ ," Marie remarked. " _My family is pretty understanding, but…well, you know about Audrey and her parents. And her grandfather goes on about that 'suffer not a witch to live' crap. And apparently, when she mentioned history, they had an argument about the Dreyfus Affair(_ _6)_ _that went badly. Madame Maxime is getting worried enough that she may need to intervene._ "

Fleur nodded. The tall headmistress of Beauxbatons was a formidable force when roused. Though intelligent, she was also rather proud and prickly many times. Rumours circulated that she was a half-giant, rumours that she took umbrage to. Which was ironic, as Beauxbatons was one of the more accepting schools in Europe when it came to part-humans. But most giants tended to be brutes more often than not. It was certainly understandable to distance yourself from that sort of heritage.

Unfortunately, people tended to think of any hybrid as being less than human, even if the non-human parent was as intelligent as a human. Fleur knew this all too well: Veela weren't that different from humans, and neither were goblins. They had their own societies and culture. And then you had merpeople and centaurs…actually, her father had told her about that disgusting statue in the Ministry of Magic. If there were many Veela in Britain, then she was sure that a Veela would be amongst the capering magical beings, looking up adoringly at the wizard and witch.

Then again, while blood purity views weren't quite as bad in France as they were in many other countries in Europe, or even around the world, they were still bad enough. Muggleborns were still sneered at. Marie had endured more than her share of bullying.

" _Even so, Fleur Delacour, and Harry Potter_ ," Marie said. " _Hey, stranger things have happened. And you might get a chance to see him sooner than you think._ "

Fleur frowned. " _Why?_ "

" _Keep this quiet. I'm only telling you because you're a friend. Madeline's been saying that there's rumours that they're reviving the Tri-Wizard Tournament next year. Not only that, but Hogwarts will probably be the hosts._ "

" _Is this some sort of joke?_ "

" _Like I said, it's rumour, for the moment. Apparently the British Ministry is hurriedly trying to organise it, and are struggling to do so with the Quidditch World Cup coming up before then. Crouch, the Head of the Department for International Cooperation, is pretty competent, but there's this former Quidditch player, Ludo Bagman, I think he's called_ …" Marie smirked. " _I believe that the English have a saying: he couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery._ "

Fleur laughed, slightly scandalised at the crude language Marie used, but still enjoying the metaphor. She then blinked. The name Crouch seemed familiar. Oh yes, her father had mentioned the man as being the one who had been the head of the DMLE at the time Black was thrown into Azkaban.

" _Well, if that is true, I wouldn't mind seeing more of him_ ," she said. " _Harry, I mean. When do you think I can tell him?_ "

" _It's still rumour at the moment. I say wait until I can find out for sure_ ," Marie said, tapping her nose confidentially. " _You really like him, don't you?_ "

" _I…it's like we're becoming friends_ ," Fleur said.

" _What? No love at first sight? No thunderbolt? No dart from Cupid's bow?_ " Marie asked cheekily.

Fleur snorted. " _I doubt that ever happens in real life. You've been reading too many rubbish romance novels, Marie. Or have you been reading Shakespeare again?_ "

" _Eh,_ Romeo and Juliet _is somewhat depressing. I mean, they do die at the end, and rather melodramatically at that_ ," Marie said with a shrug. " _Dying for someone's all very well, but living for someone is another matter. That can be much harder._ "

Fleur agreed. But she had felt a rather disturbing chill run down her spine when she thought about Marie's words. And all the more disturbing for that it was true. To truly love someone, one had to be willing to live with them forever, to endure everything.

Was she ready for that? She thought of her mother, enduring the abuse heaped on her from all sorts of people (using the word 'people' very loosely). All because her mother was a half-Veela. And it would become even worse. While her father had some renown, particularly in France, it would be nothing compared to the fame of the Boy Who Lived. If they became more than friends, how long would it take before the cries of slut, harlot, and whore rang out? How long before she was seen as an evil bewitcher and beguiler of men?

Fleur gritted her teeth. No. Don't think about what is yet to come to pass, what may never come to pass. Harry and herself were friends, or at least becoming friends. And she intended to value that connection. Whatever others may think.

 **CHAPTER 7 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, crap. I didn't even think I could squeeze out another chapter so soon. This still may be the last chapter for a while: I do want to get back to writing** ** _Harry Gainsborough and the Philosopher's Stone_** **(the third instalment, and second full story, in my Harry Potter/** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **crossover series). But I hope this chapter is to your liking.**

 **This story certainly seems to be to the liking of a lot of you guys. After posting the last chapter, my overall views count peaked at 5K, with 4.25K coming from** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **. I was very surprised to see that. And gratified. Thanks for the attention.**

 **I've switched back to Fleur for this chapter, obviously, because this is, in the end, as much about Fleur and Harry shipping as it is about Hercule Delacour (who will probably be the focus of the next chapter). In case you're wondering, yes, Marie Remi is an original character (I made up that association with Georges Remi, aka Hergé, the creator of** ** _Tintin_** **, on the fly). There's no other named** ** _modern_** **student of Beauxbatons in canon as far as I know, other than Fleur and Gabrielle.**

 **Review-answering time: I've already answered** **AlsoKnownAsMatt** **'s question via PM, as I believed I wouldn't finish this chapter until later. However, I will address his review here. Thanks for your praise of the dream sequence. I was worried I'd screw it up. I apologise for the way I used that turn of phrase, as it is hard to write for a younger character, and I was writing my own version of what he was thinking, rather than what he was actually thinking in his words. I also do not do review-answering and annotations to pad out my word-count: regardless of these, the actual word-count of the chapters almost always fall between 2100-3000 words. I do the annotations out of vanity, and the review-answerings to address concerns and thank those who put in the effort to do so.**

 **Stormbow** **: Yes, I understand. And yes, Dumbledore is ineffectual in many regards. But I pointed out perfectly valid reasons for this in my original, abandoned version of** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **(my Harry Potter/** ** _F.E.A.R_** **crossover, which I am currently trying to remake), and I intend to reconstruct him as a character. Too often in fanfiction do they make him out to be like a supervillain. A few stories with that, I do like, but in my writing, I'm trying to avoid that, because I want to be close to canon. The Dumbledore in this story is no exception. And yes, he lacks political allies. His positions of power, in my stories, are under constant threat. The magical world loves the status quo, and if Dumbledore threatened that, he could very well end up out in the cold.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: Yes, Ron is jealous, but as with Dumbledore, I'm not going to turn him into the sneering, redhead Malfoy more than a few writers have portrayed him as. He's a flawed kid who sometimes needs to have things pointed out to him. That's why I had that sort of epiphany in the previous chapter. If he was a 'Ron the Death Eater'-style character, then he would ignore it.**

 **daitihi4377** **: You missed the point of the scene. Please see what I said in response to diagonalpumpkin above.**

 **Vukk** **: When I say 'justice', I mean true justice, that the guilty are punished and the innocent allowed free, all the time, every time. Not what happens in the legal system, even at its best. And your wording is confusing. As for starting what I don't intend to finish, it's more than I am worried that, having started this, I may not finish it. It's simply less of a priority compared to my other fanfics.**

 **spectre4hire** **: Thanks for your words. And I'm glad you appreciate my honesty about potentially not finishing this fanfic. I've enjoyed a few fanfics by sakurademonalchemist (despite the prolific bashing in them), but they have a habit of leaving a lot of their fanfics unfinished, especially after getting to some good parts. BTW, I love your avatar:** ** _You Only Move Twice_** **remains one of my firm favourite episodes of** ** _The Simpsons_** **.**

 **Numbered annotations time!**

 **1\. You may find this hard to believe, but the swastika actually was a good luck charm long before the Nazis perverted it. One of history's sickening ironies, really.**

 **2\. An infamous occultist group with links to the Nazis, it has been the subject of conspiracy theories and fictional linkages to supernatural phenomena. I'm probably not the first fanfic writer to link Grindlewald with the Thule Society, but I haven't read any with that.**

 **3\. I'm guessing the Flamels kept out of the public light in modern times, and so, their deaths after the events of** ** _The Philosopher's Stone_** **would have been subject to all sorts of hearsay, rumour, and conspiracy theories. More than a few people would doubt that they were dead.**

 **4\. This is me elaborating on Juliette, who had been mentioned in Chapter 2, and whose life I had discussed in the annotations for that chapter.**

 **5\. A reference to Fleur calling Harry a 'leetle boy' in** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **when he is announced as the Fourth Champion. Needless to say, if and when I get that far, that scene will be somewhat different.**

 **6\. The Dreyfus Affair was fairly infamous for its time. In 1894, Captain Alfred Dreyfus was convicted of espionage and sent to Devil's Island, the infamous French penal island. Evidence convicting another man was suppressed when it came to light two years later, and it took a long time for Dreyfus to be exonerated. Anti-semitism played a role in Dreyfus, who was Jewish, being falsely imprisoned. My thoughts were that Audrey's grandfather, though not old enough to have seen that happen, is, at best, ultra-conservative in his values, and at worst…well, makes Aunt Marge look tame by comparison.**


	9. Chapter 8: The Wolf and the Hound

**CHAPTER 8:**

 **THE WOLF AND THE HOUND**

Hercule was used to people not telling him what he wanted or needed to know. However, that wasn't to say that he necessarily enjoyed that. He was merely used to suppressing the frustration he felt.

It wasn't to say that he didn't have cooperation. At least as far as Sirius Black was concerned, Dumbledore was very helpful. But when Hercule brought up the topic of Harry Potter and his relatives, Dumbledore was far more evasive. Even so, Dumbledore eventually admitted the reason for Harry needing to stay there: blood wards.

Hercule grudgingly admitted that if Dumbledore was telling the truth, then it would provide a good protection for Harry. But was it worth the potential psychological cost? They ended their argument, which had been the night after the Feast, with a 'let's agree to disagree' attitude, more on Dumbledore's side than Hercule's. However, Hercule warned Dumbledore to tell Harry about the blood wards sooner rather than later, as he had no doubt that Harry would take it better if he was told as soon as possible.

The various teachers he spoke to were fairly cooperative, for the most part. He kept the topic to Sirius Black, though with Minerva McGonagall, Harry's Head of House, he asked some questions about his character. When she asked why, he told her the truth: his daughter was engaged in correspondence with him, and he wanted to know more about the character of a boy who was becoming his daughter's friend.

The other teachers, those who had known Black, were almost all pleasant to talk to, albeit with a few notable exceptions. The only teacher to have any doubts about Black's guilt before he explained his thoughts was, unsurprisingly, Flitwick, the part-goblin Ravenclaw Head.

But there were unpleasant and uncooperative people everywhere. The first such one was Cuthbert Binns, the History teacher. His lack of cooperation was not due to an unpleasant demeanour: the ghost was merely so fixated on his subject matter, he didn't really care about anything else. He barely remembered the name Sirius Black, except as an unrepentant prankster.

Severus Snape was another matter entirely. The man was indubitably intelligent, but he also seemed to think that virtually everyone was beneath him, save for Dumbledore. For all of his intelligence, the man was an embodiment of many of the worst properties of Slytherin: hubris, snobbery, and prejudice. He refused to even admit to the possibility of Black being innocent, simply because the man deserved his fate regardless. When Hercule pressed Snape for a reason why, Snape had sneered, " _Ask Lupin. Ask him about the time he nearly killed me._ "

Hercule had a faint notion he knew why Snape hated Lupin. Leaving aside that the man was one of James Potter's friends, there was also the werewolf issue. Maybe Snape was nearly killed by Lupin during a transformation. For all of Snape's brilliance at Potions, a small part of Delacour's mind wished that it hadn't been ' _nearly killed_ '. Then again, at least he had that brilliance at Potions. Umbridge had no such redeeming features, and he idly wondered how well she would fare against a werewolf. Her only weapons against them seemed to be legislation, designed to marginalise them even more than they already were. But face to face against one might be another matter. He chuckled darkly to himself at the thought of Umbridge getting ripped limb from limb by the infamous Fenrir Greyback.

It was not long after one of Lupin's classes that Hercule finally had his opportunity to speak with the man. Not that Lupin avoided Hercule, but Hercule preferred to allow the werewolf the chance to get settled first.

Lupin was tending to a cupboard, which seemed to have something inside it. Something alive. "A Boggart," Lupin explained.

"Ah, I see," Hercule said quietly. He wondered, what would he see if he saw a Boggart? The last time he had seen one, it was while he was studying at Beauxbatons, as part of his own Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons. He had seen the Grindlewald of his parents' bedtime stories, a boogeyman Dark Lord, a monstrous tyrant, and not the broken shell he knew was in Nurmengard.

What would he see now? His wife and daughters, dead or dying, defiled by brutes who detested as well as desired Veela. He was sure of that much, though he may be wrong.

Lupin bustled around, trying to be busy, trying to delay the inevitable, before sitting down with a tired air in a chair. "Well, let's get it over with," the man said wearily. "You want to talk to me about Black."

"Indeed," Hercule said, erecting privacy wards as he sat down opposite Lupin.

Lupin sighed. "I've already told Dumbledore everything I know."

"But you have not told _me_ , Monsieur Lupin." Hercule chuckled. "Lupin. Like Arsene Lupin, the famous thief(1). Sorry, just a joke of mine. Let us start with something simple. I am aware of your condition. Professor Dumbledore saw fit to inform me. You can rest assured that it has no bearing on my suspicion of you. However, your relationship with Black does. Professor Snape told me earlier that Black deserves his fate in Azkaban because of an incident where you nearly killed Snape. May I ask why?"

"He never forgets or forgives," Lupin scowled. "Sirius knew about my condition, as did James and Peter. Severus was sniffing around too much, and Sirius and James decided to arrange an accident: have him be killed by me while I was transformed. James got cold feet at the last second, realising he didn't want to be party to murder by proxy. I think he understood that if Snape did get killed, then I would be in danger of being executed as a Dark creature as well."

"Whereas Sirius didn't understand that?"

"Oh he did, afterwards. He didn't think things through all the time," Lupin said. "Or maybe he was working against us, even then…"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps he was never working against you at all," Hercule said, dropping his bombshell on Lupin.

"Wait, what? What the hell do you mean, Delacour?!" Lupin snarled. Clearly, the man had a hard time letting go of the hatred he felt for Black, hatred for the apparent betrayal Black perpetrated on him and the Potters.

"If you would allow me to explain, Monsieur Lupin, I will do so gladly."

He outlined his theories to Lupin, the three scenarios. He could see that while the werewolf's expression was incredulous, there were wheels turning within Lupin's mind. That shouldn't be surprising. It was grief and anger that had jammed the gears of analytical thinking in the werewolf. It was a desire to blame someone, anyone for what happened that had rendered Lupin blind.

In addition, what he had learned from Dumbledore suggested that Lupin was seen as the traitor at the time, as he was distancing himself from the Order of the Phoenix. That had also hurt Lupin, the fact that he was seen as a traitor, but the real traitor was revealed to be one of his best friends, and probably the man poisoning the Order against him.

After some time, Lupin said, quietly, "Assuming that Pettigrew was the traitor, and not Sirius…why come to me?"

"There may be something that you know, but we do not, about Sirius, about Pettigrew, or both, something that may be pertinent to the case," Hercule said quietly.

Lupin blinked several times, as if trying to consider whether to divulge something or not. Eventually, he said, "Sirius said…'He's at Hogwarts'. You said that Amelia Bones thought it might be Peter, if one of your theories is correct. There was something we could use to check if he's at Hogwarts, but I don't have it."

"What is that?"

"It's an enchanted map of Hogwarts, which displays where people are on it, along with a number of secret passages," Lupin confessed. "I was one of those who created it. If Peter really is alive, and I'm not saying he is, then he should show up on the map. Only the living show up on the maps, and living humans or sentients as well. Not animals."

Hercule noted the odd choice of words. Why point out that animals wouldn't show up? He then decided to try another tack. He brought out the newspaper. "I found something interesting while dealing with Monsieur Fudge. Apparently, Black began obsessing with someone at Hogwarts after reading _The Daily Prophet_. This very issue, in fact." He handed over the paper to Lupin. "Would you mind looking at it, to see what he may have seen?"

Lupin seemed pretty sceptical, up until he looked at the photo on the first page. And stared. His eyes widened. Emotions chased each other across his face like greyhounds after a rabbit. With an effort, Lupin brought himself under control, but Hercule had seen enough. "What did you see?"

"I have to…"

"Monsieur Lupin, what did you see?"

"Nothing," Lupin said, standing, and making to leave, only for the detective to grab his wrist.

Hercule felt a surge of anger, left over from his dealings with Fudge, Umbridge, and Snape, not to mention confronting those Dementors on the train. He let the anger empower him. "Damn you, man, _what did you see?!_ "

Lupin glared into Hercule's eyes, and while they weren't exactly the amber shade associated with werewolves when transforming, you could see some of the beast behind it. But Hercule met the gaze without flinching. He had faced down worse than a werewolf.

It was Lupin who backed down. Feeling the man begin to do so, Hercule let the man's wrist go. Silently, Lupin handed Hercule the newspaper, and tapped the photo on the front page.

Hercule frowned. The Weasley family. So, Pettigrew was in the photo? But how? He could only see the Weasleys present in it.

"The little rat was hiding all this time," Lupin muttered, as if scarcely believing it himself.

Hercule wondered what he meant by it, until he saw it. Lupin had been speaking a touch literally.

On the youngest son's shoulders, there was a rat. In fact, it wasn't until he saw the missing toe on the rat's paw that he actually understood the full import of what Lupin had said.

Hercule looked up at Lupin, appalled. "Pettigrew…he is a rat Animagus?"

The answering nod was all Hercule needed for confirmation.

Lupin, after the initial admission, turned out to be far more forthcoming now about the Marauders, about how his friends, in order to keep him company, had learned how to undergo the Animagus transformation. Animals didn't provoke the werewolf, which tended only to attack humans.

James Potter became a stag. Sirius Black, a large black dog that was like the infamous Grim. And Peter Pettigrew became a rat.

Of course, to do so and not register the ability was illegal. After all, Animagi could infiltrate certain places, as long as they weren't an animal that stood out in those places. A rat would be perfect for spying. A shame that Pettigrew, if the rat was indeed him, had emulated the less salubrious stereotypes of rats.

"This is certainly one of the most vital pieces of the puzzle," Hercule murmured. "If this truly is Peter Pettigrew, then we now know how he escaped Sirius, but also how he has remained hidden all these years."

"That son of a bitch…" Lupin snarled quietly. Eventually, he said, "What do we do about him?"

"We first need to confirm that it is Pettigrew. I believe it is, but belief is not proof. After all, people believe that Sirius Black was guilty, but you and I know that enough doubt exists. We will go to Dumbledore. The man tends to withhold information, but he is also the Headmaster. We may need his help in finding the means to secure Pettigrew. We may need Snape as well. He may have some private stock of Veritaserum."

"Snape would rather see Sirius given the Kiss than exonerated," Lupin retorted.

"True, but Dumbledore has him on a leash, from what I can see. First, we need to secure the rat. If it does turn out to be Pettigrew, then we will worry about bringing in Snape, or else delivering Pettigrew to the DMLE."

Lupin considered this. "I think the DMLE is a better choice, if only because Amelia Bones is in charge. If it was someone like Crouch…"

Hercule nodded. "But we still need Dumbledore for help. We cannot just barge into Gryffindor Tower and demand the rat. But I intend for the truth to come out, for justice to be done."

"Do you think Fudge will allow this?"

"If it is sold to him in the right way, yes. Even the Batrachian Bitch cannot object if it is portrayed as the Minister working to right the wrong his predecessor perpetrated."

Lupin stared at Hercule. "D'you mean Umbridge?"

" _Oui_."

The werewolf began to howl with laughter. "The Batrachian Bitch! That's a good one! I haven't laughed so hard since James hexed Sirius just before the Potters' honeymoon!"

Hercule smiled indulgently. It seemed like the werewolf hadn't had much cheer for the last few years. Of course, given how werewolves were treated everywhere (Britain was far from the only country to discriminate against them2), it wasn't surprising. So he would allow Lupin to get this out of his system, and then, they would go and see Dumbledore.

* * *

Elsewhere, on a road not often travelled, a large black dog made his way north. To Hogsmeade, and to Hogwarts. His thoughts were entirely focused on two things: saving his godson, and dealing with that little rat.

Had he known that his quest was on the verge of becoming a moot point, Padfoot would not have believed it. His quest to save Harry from the rat was what his mind had become obsessed with, even in his Animagus form. He didn't care that the Dementors were placed around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. He didn't care that Snivellus would probably betray him to those creatures given half a chance.

All that mattered was saving Harry, and killing Pettigrew. That was it.

 **CHAPTER 8 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well…and here I was expecting to finish another episode of** ** _Harry Gainsborough and the Philosopher's Stone_** **first. Looks like I was right, my muse IS a fickle bitch. And you guys might be getting another chapter or two shortly after this one. In terms of reviews and follows, this is my most popular work, and given that it has nearly 42K views, it's second only to** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **.**

 **Yes, Pettigrew is getting caught earlier than in canon. And in the next chapter, Dumbledore will reveal the blood wards to Harry when Harry asks about why he stays with the Dursleys.**

 **BTW, while I'm at it, I'd like to advertise one of my newest fanfics.** ** _The City That Never Was_** **is my crossover between** ** _Doctor Who_** **and** ** _BioShock Infinite_** **, and is looking promising. In fact, I'm looking forward to the chapters where I break away from the plot of** ** _BioShock Infinite_** **, and have the Doctor and Benny have an actual big effect on the events of the game.**

 **In addition, I would like to announce that my long-awaited rewrite of my Harry Potter and** ** _F.E.A.R_** **crossover,** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **, may soon be published. It is a fairly different story from the original story, but I hope fans of the original will like it regardless.**

 **Sadly, fans of** ** _Harry Gainsborough and the Philosopher's Stone_** **will have to wait for the next episode. I haven't abandoned it: the first two chapters of the next episode have been completed, but inspiration is proving to be thin on the ground. I've decided that, once I complete that story, as well as another interquel I have in mind, it may be the last story in the Cetra Heritage Saga.**

 **Review-answering time.** **sanbeegoldiewhitey** **claims that I downgraded Harry by making him vulnerable to Veela allure. I would like to remind him that he was affected by the Veela at the Quidditch World Cup in canon. He is immune to Fleur at Hogwarts, but keep in mind that one, he is younger in this fic, two, he hasn't seen or met Veela before, and three, he is in the presence of two part-Veela and their allure (I am discounting Gabrielle because of her youth).**

 **JukedSolid** **: Thanks. While I do delude myself into thinking that my work is better than many on this site, it's nice to have someone actually say so. But I do view fanfic, as you put it, as playing printed dollhouse. I'm trying to think of a less feminine metaphor offhand, and failing miserably (unless playing in a sandbox with action figures count), but even so, while I do like to play what-if games with these characters, I also want to create a half-decent story. When I write, I tend to write popcorn entertainment first and foremost, with any intellectual considerations coming second, but I do not dismiss the latter by any means. At the end of the day, fiction is meant to be enjoyed.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: Fleur is only considering romance with Harry. She is not actually in love with him yet, though the seeds are there, and I intend for them to bloom. And thanks for your thoughts on how other countries may have bigotry. It's a minor peeve of mine that Britain is seen as the most backward of magical countries. I am very much an Anglophile, and so, I decided that no magical country in my Harry Potter fanfics would be as good as other fanfics make them out to be. I'm giving that whole 'Magical America is the best magical country in the world' thing the finger in my rewrite of** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **: Genevieve Aristide is basically a squib who was kicked out of her family.**

 **spectre4hire** **: Thanks. Fleur is one of those characters we don't see much of her true personality or thoughts. I tried to take what was more or less canon, and extrapolate from it. I believe her arrogance is partly due to insecurity, not about her looks, but about being part-Veela, and all the prejudice that may entail. Another minor inspiration, as I mentioned in the annotations for Chapter 2, was Darcy from** ** _Pride and Prejudice_** **: snobbish, but a decent person nonetheless. And yes, the Hank Scorpio episode is a great episode. I've gone off** ** _The Simpsons_** **lately, though.**

 **4Eirlys** **: I've never read a Tommy and Tuppence story (I have read a few Poirot and Marple novels), so I cannot comment on that. I have seen them in the adaptation of** ** _By the Pricking of My Thumbs_** **, done with Marple, but beyond that, I can't say.**

 **1\. Arsene Lupin is a famous thief in French literature. I mentioned him in earlier chapter notes.**


	10. Chapter 9: Dumbledore's Confession

**CHAPTER 9:**

 **DUMBLEDORE'S CONFESSION**

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, was far from happy. This was due to a massive amount of self-reproach on two separate but distantly related issues. Namely, learning that he had been so utterly, utterly wrong about Sirius Black, and his pending revelation of the blood wards to Harry. Minerva had come to see him, saying that Harry approached her after Transfiguration class, and asked to see Dumbledore regarding the Dursleys.

A small but vocal part of Dumbledore's mind cursed Hercule Delacour. He had a feeling that talking to Hercule Delacour had prompted Harry to speak to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had enough on his plate without having to deal with Harry's questions.

But that was only a small part of Albus Dumbledore. The rest of him was acutely aware that the boy deserved to know. Dumbledore had considered telling him before, but didn't want to risk the boy's happiness, even after Harry had asked him outright. The irony that the boy wasn't happy at the Dursleys, though he was at Hogwarts, was not lost on Dumbledore.

It had taken Delacour to remind Dumbledore, though, that the longer he put it off, the greater Harry's anger would be. And so too would the risk that Harry would lose his trust in Dumbledore. Dumbledore needed all the trust he could get from Harry, especially if Dumbledore's fears about what lurked within Harry's scar were true. The diary of Tom Riddle was a horcrux, after all, and it may very well be that Harry had one within him too, and from what little Dumbledore knew of these vile objects, any attempt at destroying it would prove lethal to Harry. And Dumbledore was determined to exhaust all other avenues before resorting to that option.

On top of this was the revelation that Pettigrew was possibly still alive, and with it, the faint doubts Dumbledore had had about Sirius' guilt came back, far stronger than ever. While in theory, Dumbledore could have called for a retrial of Black (given his position as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot), the sad truth was, he had been blinded by anger and feelings of betrayal. Black had turned out to be the traitor within the Order, and Dumbledore's pride had been wounded. Severus had also reminded him that he had seen it for some time, given what Black nearly did to him.

Fear, hatred, paranoia, all poisonous feelings that can blind the eyes to truth. And if Delacour and Lupin's claims were correct, Dumbledore had yet more mistakes to add to the litany he had carried with him, since his dalliance with Grindlewald. Much of the Wizarding World, especially Magical Britain, hailed him as one of the wisest men since Merlin. Dumbledore, however, knew better. There were times when he did believe his own press. But this was not one of them.

Harry entered, having been given the password by Minerva. "Good evening, Harry. Sherbet lemon?" he asked, indicating a bowl.

Harry shook his head, and sat down when invited to by Dumbledore. After an appropriate period of silence, it was Dumbledore who spoke first. "Professor McGonagall told me why you have come. And perhaps it is time I should tell you what you want to know…"

* * *

It was hard to tell Harry. It wasn't because Harry needed to be educated on how blood wards worked, or because of his incredulousness that his aunt cared about him on any level. It was hard because Dumbledore was telling Harry that he was basically condemning the young man to the Dursleys, at least until he came of age.

It was a confession of sins past, present, and future. Not a complete confession. But a confession enough.

Although Harry asked questions and interjected here and there, and he was getting angry at this revelation, Dumbledore was gladdened that the boy didn't explode into a fury. Gladdened, but also disturbed. Because he could sense the growing coldness in the boy's eyes. He had seen that coldness in far too many, including one Tom Riddle.

Should he mention the prophecy, then? Perhaps not. Perhaps it was too much, too soon.

After he had finished, the two of them sat in silence for a time. Dumbledore began to fear the worst, that by telling the boy what he deserved to know, he had just alienated the boy forever, just like he had Tom Riddle so long ago.

Fawkes broke the silence, singing a calming song, and Dumbledore saw the boy begin to relax, the ice in his eyes beginning to thaw, even as Dumbledore himself was soothed. _Thank you, old friend_ , Dumbledore thought.

Harry seemed to calm down. He was far from happy, but the boy was able to rein in his understandable emotions, his anger and hatred. "Petunia knew…" Harry said quietly. "And yet, she still kept me in a bloody cupboard under the stairs. Professor…why didn't you send someone around occasionally? Just to check?"

"That was my own fault, more than anyone else's," Dumbledore admitted. "Petunia made it clear more than once that she wanted little to do with our world, especially once she learned that she could never attend Hogwarts. She sent me a letter, you see, begging to attend. I had to turn her down, but I fear that, plus the attention her parents gave to Lily, turned her against magic. I didn't want to cause her any distress, and I thought any unwelcome intrusions may cause her to treat you badly. And yes, I have no doubt she may have treated you worse than she has."

"My aunt and uncle say I go to a reform school," Harry scowled. "St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. They couldn't send someone who…you know, is more like a Muggle? Just to keep an eye on me?"

"There are few I trust who could do that," Dumbledore admitted, sadly. "Indeed, after the war against Voldemort, there were very few people I could trust at all."

"What about Professor Lupin? Mr Delacour said that he knew my parents," Harry said.

"Ah. There's a number of reasons for that. I am not at liberty to tell you at least one of those: Remus will tell you when he is ready. However, that reason alone means that he wouldn't be allowed near you. But there was another good reason. Remus and I only reconciled relatively recently. Remus had distanced himself from the Order during the war against Voldemort, and we had suspected him to be the spy. But when Sirius Black was considered to be the traitor…well, Remus was understandably hurt. Remember how the school viewed you when you revealed that you are a Parselmouth last year. He was viewed in much the same light."

Harry scowled at the remembrance of how people treated him, as if he was the Heir of Slytherin. Clearly, it was still a raw wound for the boy. "And there was really nobody else?" he asked.

"Nobody available," Dumbledore admitted. It was a painful admission.

After a moment of silence, Harry said, "Maybe I should ask Lupin about my parents."

"That isn't a bad idea, my boy," Dumbledore said.

"And Black. And Pettigrew," Harry added. "I…I just want to know as much about them as possible. What Mr Delacour told me…I'm amazed nobody picked it up before. All those things that don't make sense. Hermione was right, many great wizards don't have an ounce of logic." He met Dumbledore's eyes and winced. "Sorry, no offence."

"My boy, even if offence was meant, I deserve to be offended in this case. I had doubts, true, but they were quelled by my anger, by the betrayal I thought Sirius perpetrated. Age does not necessarily equate with wisdom. I believe the Romans had a saying: _Barba tenus sapientes_. It literally means ' _wisdom only as far as the beard_ '. In other words, wearing a beard may make you look wise, but it doesn't necessarily mean that you are."

Harry laughed, despite his dark and sullen mood. "Don't get me wrong, I don't know whether Black is innocent or not of betraying my parents. And if those Dementors cause that much suffering to people just through a brief exposure…" Harry sighed. "He's not in a good way, is he?"

"Sirius? No. At best, he will be hanging onto sanity by a thread, even if he is innocent." Dumbledore got up from his seat, and went over to a window. After a moment, Harry joined him, and followed his gaze. The distant wraith-like forms of the Dementors were no less intimidating in the daylight than they were in the darkness when he first arrived this year.

Dumbledore sensed a question coming from Harry. "Why did the Ministry send…these creatures, Professor?" Harry asked quietly. "These monsters?"

"Pride, Harry. You may think me the most powerful and wisest wizard in Britain, if not the world, but in truth, there are many kinds of power. The Ministry sent the Dementors here because they wanted to be seen as doing something. But instead of sending Aurors, they sent the Dementors of Azkaban, so that they could be seen to be doing their best, when instead, they may have made one of their biggest blunders. I think the Dementors themselves had demanded to be sent here, for while they feel little emotion, what they do feel is strong. They feel pride in their job, and they know wrath. Sirius Black has injured their pride in escaping, for nobody has escaped Azkaban before now, and thus, Sirius has incurred their wrath."

"They're horrible…" Harry said quietly. "How can the Ministry work with such things?"

"It is a question I ask myself as well," Dumbledore said. "I could, if I wished, order the Ministry to remove them. But Fudge has many people whispering in his ear."

"Like Malfoy," Harry scowled.

"Indeed. The Ministry is full of Slytherins, and to be fair to them, many of them do great jobs. Ambition and cunning are not automatically bad qualities. It is when coupled with other qualities that you determine the nature of a person, whether it be good or bad. However, too many former associates of Voldemort hold offices within the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot, and Lucius Malfoy is also on the Board of Governors. I daresay that they mould Fudge's attitude to their way of thinking. Nothing like their blood-purity obsession, but…I fear they may make Fudge my enemy, and thus weaken our society for when Voldemort returns. I have power, Harry, but if I use it incorrectly, I risk losing much of it. Thus is the paradox of power. It is a double-edged sword."

"Like our fame," Harry murmured. "Or Fleur's allure."

"Fleur? Oh, you mean Monsieur Delacour's daughter," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Monsieur Delacour had mentioned in passing that you two are in correspondence. He is a rare man who has fallen in love with a Veela, rather than being ensnared by their allure. I do hope that you see her for what she is, not as an object of desire, but as a person. And it is good for you to make another friend."

Harry nodded. "It's like…she understands that I'm Harry Potter, and not the Boy Who Lived. Or at least she wants to understand."

"As do your other friends," Dumbledore said. "And Remus understands. He sees you as the child of his friends, not as the Boy Who Lived."

Dumbledore could see in Harry's eyes a hopeful light. He hoped that that light would not be extinguished for a long time. He hoped he could find a way to make sure Harry and his friends and family survived what was coming.

* * *

Sometime later, he summoned Severus to him. "Yes, Headmaster?" Severus asked in his usual, brusque manner.

"Severus, how is your private stock of Veritaserum?"

"Adequate," Severus replied. Which meant that he had more than enough bottles spare.

"Tell me, how would you like to help catch the betrayer of Lily?"

Severus struggled, slightly, to keep control. "You want me to use it on the werewolf?" he asked, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Does he know where Black is?"

"No. Remus Lupin is not whom I am speaking of. Nor is Black." Dumbledore steepled his fingers, and looked at Severus. The man was an unpleasant fellow, and too blinded by his prejudices towards James Potter and his son. Dumbledore kept him on only because his loyalty to Dumbledore, or rather, to the memory of Lily Evans, was absolute. "But we may know where Pettigrew is. He may very well be alive, well, and the traitor. That is why we need the Veritaserum."

Dumbledore watched the conflicting emotions waging battle on Severus Snape's face. On the one hand, his grudge against Sirius Black was absolute, and he had told Dumbledore that he believed Lupin may potentially ally with the escapee. On the other hand, if Pettigrew was the true traitor, and thus was the one to betray Lily, then Severus would take great pleasure in bringing the rat to justice. The fact that Pettigrew was also a former Marauder helped.

Eventually, Severus said, "You coerced me into this. Should the Dark Lord and any of his followers find out about this, you forced me into this." Only the glitter in his eyes and the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his joy at being able to deal with the betrayer of Lily Evans. It was a savage glee, restrained only by Snape's skills in Occlumency and self-control.

For a moment, should Delacour and Lupin's suspicions prove true, Dumbledore thought that he would pity Pettigrew. Well, he would anyway. But he doubted that Pettigrew would have an enjoyable life from now on…

 **CHAPTER 9 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, there you go. My first chapter from the point of view of Dumbledore.**

 **Now, I'm a wee bit of a Dumbledore apologist, if only because I want to reconstruct the character I enjoyed from the books, rather than see him deconstructed, or worse, turned into a SatAM cartoon villain. Don't get me wrong, I like some bashing fics, but I'm annoyed that people don't often make the effort to try and take the character as JK Rowling wrote him, and then make him better,** ** _despite_** **his flaws. One day, though, I may very well write a fic where there is Dumbledore-bashing (I'm strongly considering it for my rewrite of** ** _Lux in Tenebris Lucet_** **).**

 **The Dumbledore in this fic is frankly manipulative, more than a little ineffectual, and hoards information like a dragon hoards gold and treasure. However, despite all this, he is a good man, and trying to stay that way. He is not without flaws, hence my mentioning a small part of him railing against Delacour's interference. But I want the decent good guy back.**

 **People might be wondering why Snape decides to help with getting Pettigrew, when he wasn't remotely amenable to listening to Sirius and Lupin. I ask you to think about it: he hates Lupin and Sirius, and won't ever listen to them. But he will, albeit reluctantly, listen to Dumbledore. And Dumbledore knows how to push the man's buttons. If Snape knows that Pettigrew is the true betrayer of Lily, then he would gladly help deal with him. That's my reasoning, anyway. My version of Snape is pretty much still the petty, nasty and spiteful bastard from canon, and unlike the version in the Cetra Heritage Saga, he won't be growing out of that any time soon. I also don't have any plans to have him do so.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Dr Stranger** **: Please note that Hercule Delacour, despite his generally pleasant demeanour, also has a rather bad attitude towards bigots (having a part-Veela wife and children, and enduring any number of idiots, will do that to him). He's also thinking about how Umbridge, for all her anti-werewolf attitude, would probably do quite poorly against one. He sometimes has a rather macabre imagination.**

 **JukedSolid** **:** ** _Lupin III_** **was inspired by Arsene Lupin. But yes, very decidedly not literary, as far as Lupin III is concerned (I have read a couple of volumes of the manga). As for how events will run, wait and see. I didn't know about those French names, but I shouldn't be surprised.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: I considered dragging it out, but decided that there was little reason to do so.**

 **daithi4377** **: As you will have noticed from the above chapter, Dumbledore, while still manipulative and an information hoarder, is not a bad man in this. He's ineffectual and blinkered at times, but he isn't evil. That being said, he is still one of the 'obstinate men' of the title, though Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, and others are more prominent (and nastier) 'obstinate men'.**

 **Guest** **: Surprisingly little, at least in third year. But once we get to the Tri-Wizard Tournament…well, I'm still figuring out how to do that without Pettigrew, but…I will try to make it happen. Actually, just after I wrote that, I have an idea…**

 **Klaw117** **: Oh my. I couldn't find the forum post, given how this site royally screws up posted URLs, so I'll take your word for it. And I'm glad to see that people think I'm doing a decent job. Of course, Harry and Fleur shipping does require a bit of work. There's a small but significant age gap between them, there's the language, cultural, and geographical barriers (by geographical barriers, I meant that they're in different countries), and one has to find a way of them being in the story long before the Tri-Wizard Tournament if you go down that route. My solution was a little contrived, I'll admit, but it also gives a story beyond the shipping. More than a few shipping stories don't go beyond the shipping itself, I've noticed.**

 **No numbered annotations this time around. You may breathe a sigh of relief, if you wish.**


	11. Chapter 10: Exposing Pettigrew

**CHAPTER 10:**

 **PETTIGREW EXPOSED**

As he went to classes the next morning, Harry's mind was all awhirl. Dumbledore's revelations had, understandably, shaken him. He had been so close to letting loose with his rage, and understandably so. Dumbledore had calmly told him about basically condemning him to the Dursleys for several years, for the rest of his time at Hogwarts, like a judge sentencing a criminal to prison. All for the sake of protection, of a supposed safe haven.

Parts of him raged at Dumbledore, calling him a liar. Other parts of him raged at the old man for telling the cold, awful truth, and thus the implications thereof. A small part of him that may very well have been happy in Ravenclaw wondered what the limits of the blood wards were. The rest of him was groaning with resignation at the fact that he would have to spend the rest of his childhood (outside of his schooling) at the Dursleys.

He knew what he was going to do the moment he got back. He was going to corner his aunt, and discuss how things were going to go at _Chez_ Dursley. All Harry wanted was freedom from the godawful attitude that he had endured. At the very least, he could try his aunt. His uncle was about as persuadable as a boulder, and had about the same weight. And Dudley was as stupid as he was obese. But they may just listen to Petunia, make the summers at Privet Drive a little more bearable. Not that he had much hope of getting Aunt Petunia to see even a smidgen of reason.

He was tempted to break the blood wards, to declare that he didn't consider Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging his home anymore. But if Dumbledore was right, he would be discarding a safe haven, at least from Voldemort, if not from his followers as well. And he wasn't willing to take that chance.

Of course, there were other issues that concerned him, like Malfoy's little stunt in Care for Magical Creatures involving the Hippogriff. Or the way Snape treated them in Potions, both making them prepare Malfoy's ingredients, as well as docking points from Gryffindor for Hermione supposedly helping Neville. Or Malfoy's taunts about Black, how Harry should want revenge. Or the way Lupin deliberately prevented him from confronting the Boggart in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Was Lupin scared that Harry wouldn't be up to it? And that went without mentioning Hermione somehow having an impossible schedule.

Regarding Malfoy's taunts for wanting revenge on Black, Harry had replied, rather coldly, that he knew what Black had been accused of, but he preferred to make up his own mind. He also said that if he was guilty, then having the Dementors eat his soul was revenge enough for Harry. A few of the students who knew about Black's betrayal of the Potters were incredulous that Harry had any doubts about Black's guilt. But Malfoy wasn't happy that his taunting had been thwarted. Harry couldn't care less.

Lupin was another matter, and after he finished lunch on Tuesday, Harry went to the DADA teacher's office to try and ask a few things of the man. First and foremost would be about the Boggart. Then, he would ask about his parents…and about Sirius Black.

He found that the man wasn't alone when the door to the DADA office was opened. Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Hercule were leaving. Harry had no idea what they were discussing.

"…think it will be best for you not to be there when we confront him," McGonagall said. "We're already dancing along a fine line here." She then noticed Harry. "Oh, Mr Potter. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask Professor Lupin some questions about the last lesson," Harry said. He noticed Snape scowling at that. Neville's fear was of Snape, and in order to make the Boggart look funny, he had used the Riddikulus spell to dress the Boggart Snape in his grandmother's clothes. He knew that Neville would cop a lot from Snape now, more than he ever would.

"Very well," McGonagall said. The two teachers and the detective left, and Harry entered the classroom.

Lupin was sitting at his desk, looking haggard, his face in his hands. "Professor? What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Lupin looked up at Harry. "Ah, Harry. Sorry, I…there's a lot going on at the moment. What did you want to see me about?"

"A few things." Harry sat down in front of Lupin when the Professor indicated that he could.

"A cup of tea?" Lupin asked. "I was thinking of making one myself."

"All right," Harry said.

"I'm afraid I only have tea bags, though I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves," Lupin said quietly. Noticing the question in Harry's eyes, Lupin said, "McGonagall told me. You're not worried?"

For a moment, Harry nearly said no. But then, he admitted, "A little." He recalled the Grim, and the big black dog he had met just after fleeing the Dursleys. For a moment, he wondered whether he should say anything. He very nearly didn't, before he finally said, "I saw a big, black dog like the Grim when I was leaving home."

He didn't like the way that Lupin's eyes narrowed at this information while the older man made a cup of tea. Eventually, Lupin said, "Well, it may very well have been a dog off its leash. The Grim is one of those things that sometimes ends up a self-fulfilling prophecy. People die of fright or end up dying in accidents, fraught because they saw the Grim, or something like it."

"Well, speaking of fear…why didn't you let me confront the Boggart?"

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Well, I would have thought that obvious."

"Why?" Harry asked, a little surprised at the man's frankness at admitting he kept Harry back.

"I assumed that if the Boggart faced you, it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort."

Harry was surprised that Lupin used the full name (or at least the assumed name, rather than the birth name or appellations) of the infamous Dark Lord.

"Clearly I was wrong," Lupin mused. "But if Voldemort suddenly appeared in front of the students…"

"There'd be lots of screaming," Harry said. "Panic."

"True enough," Lupin said.

"I didn't think of Voldemort," Harry admitted. "Well, I did at first. But then…I…I remembered the Dementors."

"I see…" Lupin mused to himself. "Well, well…I'm impressed."

"How is that impressive?" Harry asked, incredulously, and a little annoyed.

"Well, it means the only thing that you truly fear…is fear itself. Or at least its embodiment," Lupin clarified. "Very wise."

"I don't feel very wise," Harry said, taking a sip of the tea Lupin had made for him. "Anyway, I came to you for another reason. Mister Delacour told me a while ago that you knew my parents. Not to mention Sirius Black…and Peter Pettigrew."

Lupin frowned, giving Harry a look. He seemed to debate with himself whether to tell Harry something. Eventually, he said, "Harry…I know you want to hear those stories, and I dearly want to tell them. But with everything that is going on right now…I want to get things straight in my head before I start telling you those stories."

"But why?" Harry asked.

Lupin just gazed morosely at his desk. "Because this whole thing with Black escaping…it's dug up too many memories. Not bad memories for the most part, but…"

Harry blinked, trying to understand. "Did Mr Delacour tell you that Pettigrew may have switched with Black?"

Lupin looked up from the desk. He then nodded. "He talked to you about it too, didn't he?"

"Yeah. And…I don't know whether it's true or not…but…if it is true…I just wonder why nobody picked up on it."

"They were dark times, Harry," Lupin said. "For a time, they suspected me of being the traitor. I understand their reasons…but it hurts all the same, even a decade later. That's part of the reason why I find it a bit difficult to talk about. Not to mention your father and your mother dying, and Dumbledore taking you elsewhere. And then, Hercule Delacour comes in and rips open old wounds." Lupin emitted a bitter laugh. "And of course, Snape doesn't like being around me."

"Because you were my father's friend?"

"That's all the reason he needs, though there are more," Lupin admitted.

"And what about coming to see me while I was at the Dursleys? Dumbledore said…there was a reason only you could tell me," Harry said quietly.

Lupin shook his head. "And…I'm not ready to tell you yet, Harry. I know you want to know. But it's a deeply personal thing. An illness that has plagued me since before I came to Hogwarts as a student. Your father and Black and…Pettigrew never truly cared about it…at least until the war. But others won't view it the same way. But perhaps I should give you some warning: on occasion, I may be absent from classes, and someone, perhaps Professor Snape, may substitute for me. So don't be worried."

Harry nodded. He didn't like not being told, but at least Lupin gave a reason. The poor man was ill, and it seemed to have a stigma in the magical world. Trying to change the subject to a happier topic, he said, "Actually, Professor, I also have a question. You seem to know quite a bit about magical creatures and beings. So, what do you know about Veela?"

Lupin blinked. "Well…that is an unusual question. May I ask why?"

Harry, briefly, explained how he came to meet Hercule Delacour and his family. For the moment, he omitted the Aunt Marge incident. Lupin nodded as he listened. "So, you're a pen-pal of this girl. Does she tell you much about her own heritage?"

"She has told me something, and it's quite interesting," Harry said. "I just wondered what you knew yourself."

"Quite a bit. Veela actually come from Slavic myth. Beautiful nymph-like creatures, according to the myths. The myths claim that they live in bodies of water, although that in itself is one of the things myth has wrong. Veela are not as accustomed to water as they are to the air. I believe the confusion arises from the fact that they are not unrelated to the Sirens of Greek myth. However, many other aspects of the myth are true: they are fierce warriors when pressed, and are capable of entrancing men with their voices and song, though they have an innate allure. Part-Veela also inherit this allure, as well as great beauty, though they don't always inherit other traits. Veela can shape-shift when angry, into more bird-like forms. Not all part-Veela can do this, though…"

* * *

As Lupin and Harry talked, others were taking action. McGonagall had asked Ronald Weasley to bring his rat to them for a check-up. When the boy wanted to know why, McGonagall told a relatively rare lie: that Harry had mentioned, in passing, that Scabbers had looked ill. She then said that she had consulted with Snape, who had a number of potions that would be good for a rat that was ill. Ron was of the opinion that Hermione's new pet cat, Crookshanks, was the main cause, or at least had made his rat worse, and wasn't really happy about Snape being involved. But McGonagall said that there were a number of illnesses in magical rats that could pass onto humans, most of them unpleasant, some of them decidedly lethal.

It wasn't that much of a bluff: there were such illnesses, though McGonagall couldn't name them herself (her specialty was in Transfiguration, not Care of Magical Creatures or Healing). Ron was determined to accompany his rat, though, and McGonagall knew that they'd have to find a way to make sure he told only a select few of what was to come.

Scabbers, she noted, seemed to think something was up. He was getting ever more agitated. She didn't think Ron Weasley would react well to the sight of seeing his rat hit by a Stunner spell, but she may not have a choice. If what Delacour and Lupin were saying was true, then they would need to.

It was scarcely believable. And yet, Delacour's theory made sense. It made damnable good sense. All those little things McGonagall had seen, the signs she had seen in Pettigrew…and hadn't seen in Black. Signs that she could only see in retrospect.

Rats who had been around magic could potentially live longer than mundane rats, McGonagall knew. Scabbers was an unusual case, but not a truly noteworthy one. But an Animagus, of course, would potentially live as long as a human would. The Animagus transformation was her particular specialty in Transfiguration. To learn that the Marauders had changed into animals to keep Lupin company…it explained a lot. And she'd be willing to guess that Sirius Black's transformation played a key role in how he escaped Azkaban.

But that was speculation for the future. What mattered now was dealing with what could very well be Pettigrew.

They made it into a classroom where Snape was waiting with a number of vials. The rat began to panic even more, and McGonagall eventually Stunned the rat. Hercule Delacour and Dumbledore were both present, albeit under Disillusionment charms.

McGonagall used the Animagus-revealing charm, and nodded grimly when she saw the distinctive glow. She then reached into the cage carefully, and plucked the rat out. "Brace yourself for a shock, Mr Weasley," McGonagall said quietly, before using the Animagus transformation reversal spell.

She wasn't surprised when the rat, enveloped in an aura of blue-white light, began to grow and transform. The form of the rat writhed and warped and grew, until what was lying, sprawled on the ground, was a short man. Once apparently plump, it seemed like he had lost a lot of weight. His hair was rather colourless now, and he had a prominent bald patch. Something of the rat that he once was lingered in his nose, and his watery eyes.

McGonagall knew who it was, as did Snape and the disillusioned Dumbledore. It was none other than Peter Pettigrew. A bit worse for wear, but it was Pettigrew all the same.

Ronald Weasley gaped and gawked at the man who had once been his rat, his eyes wide, and his freckles standing out even more than usual on his now bone-white skin. For a moment, he said nothing, before yelping, "Bloody hell! What did you do to Scabbers?"

"Mr Weasley, be quiet for the moment," McGonagall said, choosing not to chide him for his language. It was a perfectly understandable reaction to seeing your rat turn into a man, after all. She then used her spell to lock Pettigrew in his current form. Snape took great pleasure in dragging the man to a chair, and wrapping him up in ropes with an Incarcerous spell.

Then, Hercule Delacour and Dumbledore dropped their Disillusionment spells. "It seems Remus was correct," Dumbledore mused, looking at Pettigrew.

" _Oui_ ," Hercule murmured. "But as to anything else…" His eyes flickered over to Ron, and smiled reassuringly. "Your pardon, Ronald Weasley. It was a necessary ploy. We received intelligence that your rat may be an Animagus."

As Ron continued to gawp, Snape, while plucking a vial of Veritaserum from the small selection of vials at his table, said, "Oh, do shut your mouth, Weasley. Unless you enjoy a diet of flies. Perhaps your Animagus form is a frog of some kind. That would explain a lot."

Ron instantly shut his mouth. Instead, he watched carefully as Snape dripped Veritaserum into Pettigrew's mouth. Snape then revived the man, although he was currently in a Veritaserum-induced trance. McGonagall watched on as the man was asked questions. First as to his identity…and then, to what he did.

To her mounting horror, he recounted what he did with the Death Eaters, and how he betrayed the Potters. McGonagall fought down an urge to be ill. She tamped down the anger that surged up too. To think that one of her Lions had become a Death Eater. It was bad enough thinking about Sirius Black doing so, but there was the infamous reputation of his family that had influenced the way she thought, the way they all thought about Sirius. But Peter Pettigrew was another matter.

She saw the glee on Snape's face gradually replaced with a cold, cold scowl. She knew something of the affection he had once had for Lily Evans, a friendship severed in their fifth year with his calling her a Mudblood. Snape looked like he wanted nothing more than to draw his wand and hex Peter Pettigrew into oblivion. The usually jovial Delacour was not smiling at all. And Albus was the gravest she had ever seen him, save for during the war.

When Pettigrew finished listing the litany of his crimes, Dumbledore and Delacour looked at each other. "We must contact Madame Bones," Delacour said decisively. "We need to bring him to the DMLE, as soon as possible."

"We will use the Floo," Dumbledore said, the two of them moving closer to Pettigrew. "I would use Fawkes, but a phoenix suddenly appearing within the DMLE will cause trouble. Better to let them know that we are coming…and why." He looked up. "Minerva, would you kindly escort Mr Weasley out…and explain what has happened?"

McGonagall nodded. Even so, she dreaded explaining to Ronald Weasley the details of how a Death Eater came to be his pet rat. It was not a conversation she looked forward to having, especially given the look of horror that was etched starkly onto his freckled face.

 _First Quirrell and the Stone, then the Basilisk, and now Dementors and a Death Eater hidden as a pet rat_ , McGonagall thought to herself, unaware that Harry would share the same sentiments. Would it be too much to ask for a normal year?

 **CHAPTER 10 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it: the reveal of Pettigrew. Next chapter will be more of Fleur. I need to get back to the shipping. After that, there may be another long interval of no updates.**

 **And wow. Over 50K views for this fanfic. In fact, it has just surpassed what was my most-viewed fic,** ** _Harry Potter and the Cetra Heritage_** **. I am bloody astonished. No, really, I am.**

 **Now, you guys may be wondering why Lupin doesn't exactly seem happy to be sharing stories with Harry about his father and the Marauders. As Lupin himself points out, he's still trying to deal with the painful memories of being suspected as the traitor, as well as the feelings about Black. Keep in mind that, while he is nice to Harry in canon, he is also not forthcoming initially about whether he knew Harry's father or not. I decided that the emotional wounds were part of the problem. It's a not unreasonable explanation, isn't it?**

 **I'll answer some of my reviews, but a lot of them had to deal with the same subject: Dumbledore, and my attempts to reconstruct him, so I'll answer those here and now. I make no apologies or excuses for my wanting to portray him in a light that is ultimately positive. Yes, he is flawed, has made some bad mistakes, but my version of Dumbledore, along with (I believe) the canonical one, would have taken another choice, had there been one. If anything, I believe one of canon Dumbledore's worst traits to be that he didn't look hard enough, and he doesn't trust enough people. However, in my fics (or most of them) if Harry somehow got the horcrux removed without dying, Dumbledore would be beyond elated. I truly have a problem with believing that Dumbledore would want Harry dead. Yes, he screwed up badly with the Dursleys, and that is ultimately one of his greatest failings. I'm trying to reconstruct him. You don't like the way I'm doing it, well, you don't have to read this fic.**

 **Onto some individual review answerings.** **elvander72** **: Harry's reaction is more subdued than you'd think partly because the equivalent scene is in** ** _The Order of the Phoenix_** **. In that version of the scene, Harry was distraught (at having lost his godfather, and at having Dumbledore keep secrets from him time and again, on top of everything else that happened in the year). Here, he is trying to keep his temper, because he knew there'd be an unpleasant truth. I think Hercule gave Harry just a touch more ability to think a little analytically and dispassionately through their conversation.**

 **master joker** **: I'm as of yet undecided what to do with the Ron situation when the time comes. However, by the same token, I don't want Ron to be bashed too much in my work: I'm trying to stay close to, or else improve, on canon characterisation.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: The reason why Dumbledore was angry (albeit only a bit) with Delacour is because, even in my reconstruction, he's still a bit of a control freak. He is also projecting some of his own self-reproach onto Delacour.**


	12. Chapter 11: Fleur's Contemplation

**CHAPTER 11:**

 **FLEUR'S CONTEMPLATIONS**

Being part-Veela, and thus being a creature that was an embodiment of desire, Fleur Delacour was sure that she understood desire fairly well. Or at least in others. But when it came to analysing her own desires, she found that at times, she was lacking.

She knew what she desired in her life: to be recognised as a person, and not as some hybrid creature. If she found a good man, a handsome and intelligent man who could love her and not just lust after the Veela, then that would be even better. She wanted more than just her family and a small circle of friends to see her as she was, not as too many thought she was.

But there were some things that were murkier, where doubt sometimes reigned. And her relationship, such as it was, with Harry Potter was one of them.

Marie had stayed true to her word about keeping secret her correspondence with Harry Potter, and Fleur finally plucked up the courage to tell one of her other friends, Audrey. Like Marie, Audrey Rochefort(1) was a Muggleborn. However, compared to the impish and iconoclastic Marie, Audrey was more shy and retiring. Her face could have been pretty, even with the thick glasses she wore, had it not been almost perpetually set in a mournful expression. Her dark hair was cut short. She was very much a shrinking violet, although Fleur's efforts helped bring the girl out of her shell a bit. It didn't help, though, that her parents were rather disdainful towards magic at best (and at times, verbally and psychologically abusive at worst), and her grandfather was a religious fundamentalist, as well as ultraconservative.

The three of them were sitting in the gardens on the grounds of Beauxbatons Palace. Audrey was looking thoughtful. " _So, you are in correspondence with Harry Potter?_ " she asked.

Fleur nodded. " _Why? Are you going to be like Marie and doubt me?_ "

The jibe was meant in jest, but Fleur regretted her words when Audrey flinched. It had taken the girl a lot of courage to speak to Fleur in the first place. Fleur's haughty and sometimes intimidating air did not mix well with the shy and timid attitude of the girl. " _Sorry_ ," Fleur said hastily. She valued her friendship with the timid girl. Despite lacking confidence in many things, Audrey had an instinctive grasp of many spells. She was the one with the best grades out of the three. And what was more, she was a surprisingly perceptive girl with a good grasp on the problems of her friends…what few she had.

Audrey nodded. " _It's not a problem. So…Harry Potter. What's he like?_ "

" _He's a nice boy. A bit on the scrawny side. Apparently his relatives are not nice to him either. But while he was entranced by my allure, he was at least not so badly affected by it. I've seen boys his age drooling up a mess like a hound when I am near_ ," Fleur remarked with a haughty sniff. " _And at least he's interesting to write letters to. He writes about Hogwarts, and wants to know more about both Beauxbatons and Veela._ "

" _Along with yourself, eh, Fleur?_ " Marie said, with a cheeky grin.

" _Well, of course. But at least he wants to know about things other than myself_ ," Fleur said, returning Marie's smile. " _He's also definitely a Quidditch fanatic. Not so much on following teams as much as playing it for his school. He's a Seeker._ "

Audrey smiled. She was the Seeker for her own House team. Marie was a Chaser for her House team. The three of them were in separate Houses, though it didn't stop them from socialising. " _Is he good?_ "

" _He underplays it, but apparently he's a prodigy_ ," Fleur said. " _He's usually the one to spot and catch the Snitch. You'd probably find a lot to talk to him about, Audrey. And to one of his friends. Apparently that friend is great at chess. Maybe you could play a postal game. I mentioned that possibility to him._ "

Audrey mused to herself, " _Hmm…maybe. I wonder if he knows fairy chess or shogi(_ _2)_ _?_ "

" _Probably not shogi_ ," Marie laughed. " _How many people do you know even know about that game? Or that 'go' one?_ "

" _True_ ," Audrey said, her expression a little downcast.

" _Hey, hey, I meant nothing by it, Audrey. I'm just sayin', shogi's a Japanese game. So's 'go'. Me, I'm more of a Monopoly person when it comes to board games._ " Marie failed to mention, though she didn't actually need to with her friends, that she was also the more athletic of the three, preferring to play Muggle sports and practise duelling. Games that required sitting down and being relatively inactive didn't appeal to her, although Monopoly and a few card games appealed to her. She was often chastised by teachers for lacking decorum, but her grades, while not brilliant, spoke for themselves.

" _Actually, speaking of games_ ," Marie said, her eyes gleaming, " _I've heard a bit more about that rumour. Like I said, Fleur, you've got to keep it quiet. Same for you Audrey._ "

" _What rumour?_ " Audrey asked.

" _They're reviving the Tri-Wizard Tournament_ ," Marie said, grinning. " _Supposedly, the first revived tournament is going to be held at Hogwarts. I've managed to confirm a few things since I mentioned this to Fleur. Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman are definitely the main organising minds behind the new tournament. Both are has-beens, though Crouch is still formidable. He's the former DMLE head in Britain. But Bagman…apparently he's just a former Quidditch player, a fool who took one too many Bludgers to the skull and wants to recapture some of the glory days. Plus, apparently he's in trouble with the goblins. He's apparently spending too much beyond his means, and his creditors are beginning to get restless. So he's hoping that this might help get them off his back._ "

While it is not a truth universally acknowledged that all girls love a bit of juicy gossip, it is true that these three liked some. Marie was usually the gossip of the group, though she tended to listen for it than spreading it. The other two were more content to listen to the juicy titbits that Marie heard.

" _Would you participate in it?_ " Fleur asked Audrey.

Audrey looked pensive. " _Actually…I'm not sure I would. I've read up on that before, and…well, people have died in it._ "

" _Supposedly they're making it safer for the participants_ ," Marie said, with a shrug. " _But I did my homework on Bagman and Crouch. Bagman's one for public spectacle. He'd probably do the bare minimum of safety procedures to appease the naysayers. Even so, I'd participate. What about you, Fleur?_ "

Fleur nodded. " _If only to show what Beauxbatons students are capable of. And to show that I'm more than merely a part-Veela._ " A thought occurred to her. Her father had discussed Crouch while they were in England. " _Marie, did you know Crouch apparently sent his own son to Azkaban?_ "

Marie nodded, while Audrey looked horrified. " _Yeah, I did know. He's a hard-arsed bastard, apparently. I mean, you'd have to be to do any good against Voldemort. And his kid was apparently part of some Death Eater group who tortured some well-loved Aurors into insanity, and this was after Voldemort got killed. But even so, that's cold. It's what got him apparently kicked sideways into the Department of International Cooperation, when the kid and his wife died. They reckon he drove his kid to Voldemort with his attitude. Hell, the kid might have even just been a hanger-on rather than a full-blown Death Eater. He just might have been dragged along for the ride by the Lestranges._ "

" _Who knows?_ " Fleur asked. " _It's just my father's current case involved someone Crouch sent to Azkaban._ "

" _Yes, I know. Sirius Black,_ " Marie said, nodding. Audrey nodded too. It was common knowledge between the three friends. " _So, has he caught the infamous Black?_ "

" _No. He's keeping quiet about the details of the case, understandably_ ," Fleur said. And it went without saying that this was easily one of the most high-profile cases he worked on. For all of his brilliance, her father was looked down upon both for his marriage to a part-Veela and for his rather iconoclastic ways. True, he was a celebrated detective in many circles. But he was also scorned by many, as he delighted in leaving no stone unturned, no matter what dirty little secrets lay buried beneath. His intolerance for the intricate politics of Pureblood circles often rankled those people.

Fleur also shared an opinion her mother had. This was that there were a few who were envious that Hercule Delacour, a portly, relatively unattractive man, had managed what comparatively few others had achieved: falling in love with a Veela. _What has he got_ , they whispered, _that we haven't?_

Even so, Hercule Delacour did get quite some renown in France, first as an Auror, and then as a consulting detective. He even did quite a bit of work with Muggles. And Fleur could honestly say that, despite his tendency to bring his family into uncomfortable situations, like the Knight Bus, she was proud of her father.

" _Oh well_ ," Marie said. " _If the guy's able to escape Azkaban, then he's sure to be able to evade Aurors and Dementors for a while. Black, I mean._ "

Fleur nodded. She wondered if there'd be a new letter from either her father or from Harry. She wanted some news from either of them.

* * *

As it turned out, her father and Harry had both sent a letter each. Fleur opened her father's one first, in the privacy of the dorms.

 _My dearest Fleur,_

 _Though this case is still far from over, it has taken a turn most dramatic. This will soon become common knowledge, but I do ask that you try and keep this under your hat. I know your friend Marie is very much a gossip._

 _While I cannot say too much, and I have told Harry to be circumspect in his own letter to you, I have discovered that Black is innocent of his crimes. We haven't caught Black, but we have caught the true culprit in the betrayal of the Potters. At the moment, he is undergoing interrogation at the DMLE. If all goes well, then I may be back home in time for Christmas. However, I am not hopeful of things going well. Black still needs to be found, after all, and the Minister is not yet inclined to order the Dementors away from their station around Hogwarts._

 _I'm afraid that there is little more news I can give you, my daughter, but I will contact you later. Then again, I am sure that the newspapers will be filled with the consequences of my latest endeavour before long. Hopefully in a manner that will not make you embarrassed with your dear father, no?_

 _Yours lovingly,_

 _Papa_

Fleur smiled. Of course, one of the last times her father ended up in the papers, it was in a rather undignified manner involving a stable of Abraxans he was investigating, and ending up falling into a pile of their manure. Fleur had been torn between embarrassment, horror, and uncontrollable mirth at the time. Hercule Delacour may be one of the best detectives in France, but even he was not immune to undignified accidents. Of course, it was long enough ago now that Hercule himself made jokes about it, often claiming in jest that he had been searching for clues in the manure. At the time, he wasn't laughing: while no neat freak, he found such filth on his person appalling, even more so than the average person.

She opened the one from Harry, and began reading.

 _Dear Fleur,_

 _Well, it's been a busy little while. I found out some things…things that I'm not happy with. Nothing to do with you or your father. I'm not sure I can put them in this letter, though. I get the feeling they're the sort of thing that the less is said about them, the better. I'm a bit upset, though. But it's also one of those things that I needed to know._

 _By the way, your father told me I can say this much: they finally caught the guy who betrayed my parents. And no, it isn't Sirius Black. He said I can't say who it is, though you'll find out soon. It'll be all over the newspapers, even in France. All I can say is that I'm glad that they caught him._

 _My friend, Ron, is in a bit of a bad way. The events around them catching the traitor have left him upset. I can't tell you why, but me and Hermione are doing our best to help him through it. I think you said one of your friends is good at chess. Maybe you could get them to do a postal chess game with him? It might help him take his mind off things._

 _Hermione has agreed to teach me French. I hope I can pick it up quickly enough. It's so nice of you to write me letters in English._

 _Anyway, I hope you and your friends and family are well. At least you haven't got Dementors hanging around the place._

 _Hope to hear from you soon._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Harry Potter_

 _PS. Hermione asked me whether you like bouillabaisse. I'm glad she helped me spell that right. She said she acquired a taste for it while she was on holiday in France earlier this year_.

Fleur smiled. While Harry hadn't had a good time lately, it was still good to hear from him, and to hear that they had caught the one who had sold out his parents. And she looked forward to the time when she could read a letter from Harry in her mother tongue.

And his friend liked bouillabaisse? Well, not all French people enjoyed the Provençal seafood stew, but Fleur did like a well-made bouillabaisse.

Maybe, if the rumours about the Tri-Wizard Tournament panned out, she could come and meet Harry Potter and his friends. With a gentle smile on her face, Fleur began to pen her replies to her father, and to Harry…

 **CHAPTER 11 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Okay, another bit of Fleur navel-gazing. But I also wanted to take this opportunity to flesh out not only Fleur, but her friends. More or less by accident (initially), I've brought about a not-dissimilar dynamic to the Golden Trio. Fleur's the leader of sorts, with Harry's role and lack of comfort with their station, but with Hermione's bossiness. Marie's like Ron, in that she is blunt, outgoing, and a bit of a jock (can you apply that term to a girl?). And Audrey has some of Harry's shyness and home life, and Hermione's book smarts. I decided to make Audrey a bigger friend to Fleur than originally intended because I wanted another girl in this little group. I know Beauxbatons is co-ed, but I think Fleur's closer friends would probably be fellow girls, and ones who aren't jealous of her being a Veela.**

 **By the way, I took some inspirations for the characterisations for the two OCs from anime. Marie, in this chapter at least, has a bit of Tomo Takino (and a bit of Kagura as well) from** ** _Azumanga Daioh_** **, while Audrey is a bit like Hinata Hyuga from** ** _Naruto_** **.**

 **Oh, and before I get to the review-answering, this will probably be the last chapter for a little while yet. My well has run dry for this fic for the moment. The fact that I've managed to update so quickly surprises me. So too is the popularity. Nearly 55K views as of writing. By the time I get the next chapter done, which probably won't be for a while, I expect it to pass 60K. The following chapters, up to the end of Year Three, will sort of skip around in time a bit.**

 **Review-answering time. And I will be trying to keep this to a minimum.** **Klaw117** **: So that's where it comes from, eh? And yet, despite that post, there's still a lot of fics on this very site that ship Fleur and Harry. I'm just trying to do so in as competent a manner as I can manage. The difficulty is doing it realistically, or at least as realistic as you can get in a series about a school for wizards and witches. I also want to avoid going for very soppy romance or godawful smut. The former I avoid like the plague, and the latter, well, I doubt I could write a sex scene very well, and I'm not going to try anytime soon. I see enough of crappy so-called 'erotic' writing on this site. Not to mention the fact that Harry's still underage. I can see him romancing Fleur and even kissing her, but not going as far as sex. At the moment, Fleur and Harry are just two teenagers corresponding. Their friendship, such as it is, is the foundation of the romance to come.**

 **Incidentally, on the subject of smut, did you know that, according to the dictionary function on Word, smut, amongst the various definitions, include plant diseases caused by a fungus? I didn't know, and I'm sure you guys didn't too. You learn something new every day, or at least once in a while.**

 **NAJ P. Jackson** **: Harry will get his chance to confront Pettigrew later. And real life isn't as neat as it is in fiction (hence, for example, Amelia Bones catching onto a possible connection before Hercule). Harry was probably kept away (like Lupin) because he might be tempted to attack Pettigrew. That was my reasoning.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: Thanks for your views on Remus and Harry's first heart-to-heart. I can't remember (and I couldn't find with a skim-through) at what point in** ** _The Prisoner of Azkaban_** **he admitted that he knew Harry's father. I thought about why he didn't reveal that at first, and decided to have Lupin discuss that in that chapter.**

 **And yes, Harry might be able to persuade Petunia. I think convincing Vernon might be simpler than you think, though. For all of Vernon's nastiness, he gives a damn about his son (albeit he spoils Dudley rotten), and if Harry plays the 'blood wards protect you guys from Voldemort' card right, well, I don't think Vernon will become an angel, or even nice to Harry. But I think he will be more willing to tolerate Harry, if only because he will have protection from the freaks. Not that I won't have him being confronted and called out on his treatment of Harry. I'm still undecided as to whether it will be Remus, Sirius, or Hercule who does so.**

 **1\. When I mentioned Audrey in an earlier chapter, I named her for French actress Audrey Tautou, best known for** ** _Amélie_** **and** ** _The Da Vinci Code_** **. When I decided she needed a last name, I settled on Rochefort, the last name of Jean Rochefort, a veteran French actor who I had seen in** ** _Lost in La Mancha_** **, a documentary about Terry Gilliam's failed attempt to film** ** _The Man Who Killed Don Quixote_** **. Rochefort was going to play Quixote in that film.**

 **2\. Fairy chess is a real-life variation of chess, while shogi is sometimes called 'Japanese chess'. Go is another strategic board game. Shogi and go may be familiar to fans of certain anime series. I reckon Ron would leap at a chance to try these games out.**


	13. Chapter 12: A Sirius Meeting in

**CHAPTER 12:**

 **A SIRIUS MEETING IN HOGSMEADE**

After all the excitement of Peter Pettigrew being caught and interrogated (which made, a few days later, the headlines in _The Daily Prophet_ ), things went back to a routine for Harry and his friends. In a way, it felt like a burden had been taken off their shoulders. Of course, poor Ron got teased mercilessly by Fred and George for sleeping in the same bed as a grown man, although Percy, who had also had Scabbers as a pet, got even worse treatment.

But Malfoy's taunts had become a little less frequent at date, and more directed towards Ron than Harry or Hermione. Snape, although still mostly in a foul mood, seemed to have an occasional moment when he'd smirk without saying anything. Ron had told Harry that Snape had been present at the initial capture and interrogation of Pettigrew, and seemed to have it in for the rat Animagus. Harry guessed that this was because Pettigrew was one of the Marauders, and Snape delighted in revenge on him. But there was another thing that bothered him about Snape.

Lupin had begun to open up to Harry, and the two swapped tales on weekends. Lupin was somewhat horrified about the events of the past couple of years, not to mention the Dursleys, but Harry was able to calm the man down. He alluded to a condition he had that would probably prevent him from having custody of Harry anyway, and he accepted that the blood wards would help. He also told Harry about the Marauders. The man seemed a little ashamed about the worst of the pranks he had pulled, though. " _We were young then_ ," he had said wistfully. " _And foolish. And brilliant._ "

The upshot was, Harry learned that although Snape and his father (not to mention the other Marauders) had been the bitterest of enemies, the surprising thing was that, until their fifth year, Snape and his mother had been friends. Harry could scarcely believe it, but then again, Lupin was unlikely to lie to him, and Snape would probably hex him if he asked for confirmation. He did ask McGonagall, who confirmed this, albeit reluctantly. And Harry…wasn't sure what to make of it.

If Pettigrew had been the one to betray his parents to Voldemort, did that mean Snape was enjoying revenge of another kind? Had he liked his mother enough that he wanted revenge on her betrayer?

It meant little, in the end. Snape was a foul git, as Ron so often put it, and if he treated Harry more as the son of James Potter than of Lily, then Harry would not bother trying to reach the man.

Another he often spoke to was Hercule Delacour. The man stayed at Hogwarts Castle because he had a notion that Sirius Black may not see the news coverage of Pettigrew's capture, and so might still be making his way to Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron often accompanied him. Hermione, because she wanted to ask the French detective about his ancestors and the detectives they inspired in fiction. And Ron, because Hercule Delacour agreed to play chess with him. Ron won more often than not, and it helped salve his ego and self-esteem in the wake of Scabbers being taken from him. Ron was also receiving mail from one of Fleur's friends, and playing postal chess.

Of course, there was Wood's intense training for Quidditch. He was determined to get the Quidditch Cup in the bag at long last, and this year was his last year. Of course, his training was exhaustive and exhausting, to say the very least.

One thing that Harry was worried about was the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Vernon Dursley had claimed he would sign the Hogsmeade permission form if Harry would tolerate Marge and not show what he was capable of. Harry began to wonder whether Vernon had made that promise, believing that Harry would mess up, or else would renege on the promise even if Harry kept up his end of the bargain. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Vernon Dursley was fond of saying his word was as good as a bond, but in truth, he was fond of saying a lot of things he didn't bother living up to.

While discussing this with Lupin, Lupin eventually resolved to talk with Professor McGonagall. While it was true the rules stated that Harry needed to have a permission form signed by a guardian, there was a provision with extenuating circumstances: if the guardian had refused to sign the slip and a teacher was willing to escort the student at all times, then said student could go(1). And with the possibility of Sirius Black attacking now far less of a possibility (though in his post-Azkaban state, his mental health was still understandably in question), there was less of a need to keep Harry in the castle for his safety.

Apparently it took some persuasion for McGonagall to accede. Not because she was worried about Sirius attacking Harry, as that was now very much a moot point, but because she did have something of a love for the rules. Most of the time, anyway, given how she allowed the Marauders some leeway, as well as her allowing Harry to become a Seeker on the Quidditch team.

McGonagall eventually acceded. She at least knew what the Dursleys were like, at least to some degree. But she also warned Lupin that he must take responsibility. " _She's worried_ ," Lupin had said when they met afterwards, " _that I'll be taking you to Zonko's. A true Marauder uses his own ingenuity and daring._ "

Harry, nonetheless, resolved to go there, as well as Honeydukes', and the Three Broomsticks. Lupin would be accompanying him, Ron, and Hermione. Hopefully, they wouldn't get into trouble. Then again, trouble had a bad habit of finding them.

* * *

Lupin, as it turned out, was a source of anecdotes about the Marauders and what they did in Hogsmeade. He shared stories with Ron, Hermione, and Harry as they explored Hogsmeade.

Harry could tell that Ron was chafing a little at having a teacher nearby. But on the other hand, he did like hearing some of the amusing stories Lupin talked about. Hermione, as was her wont, asked questions about the various buildings and stores: for all her love of book learning, she also liked to have some knowledgeable people around.

Then, Lupin froze, just as they were passing a rather mangy-looking large black dog. A dog that, to Harry, looked familiar. Lupin seemed to sniff, before he turned. The dog had retreated, but Lupin frowned. Then, out loud, he said, "We found the rat. He's under guard. If you want to talk, we'll do it at the Shrieking Shack."

The dog walked from the bushes. Ron's eyes were wide, and he began muttering about the Grim. Harry realised, with a start, that this may very well have been that same creature he had glimpsed during his flight from the Dursleys…so how could it listen? Of course, far from being the frightening figure it had been that dark and grim night, it looked actually a little pitiful.

"Come on. I think someone wants to talk," Lupin said.

* * *

The Shrieking Shack. Supposedly the most haunted place in Britain, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. No doors or windows, or at least none that were unbarred or unobstructed in any way. The dog waited impatiently for them there, out of sight from anyone passing by, looking very haggard and very tired.

Lupin looked around, before waving his wand. "I've erected privacy seals," he said. "Try not to scare them too much."

The dog nodded…and then changed.

The three children's eyes widened. "Bloody hell, it's Sirius Black!" Ron yelped.

"He's an Animagus!" Hermione exclaimed.

The man standing before them was haggard, bearded, with grey eyes that danced with near-madness. He looked like a corpse freshly revived, just without all the rotting flesh attendant to such things. "Remus…please tell me it's true. Please tell me they've got Peter."

"I was there, they got him all right!" Ron yelled. "Your manky little friend was sleeping in my bed all these years!"

Sirius looked at Ron, before chuckling grimly. "We knew he didn't have many standards, eh, Remus?"

"It's not a laughing matter, Sirius. A Death Eater in the home of the Weasleys. But yes, we've caught him. The DMLE have him locked up. And yes, they know about his Animagus form. I hadn't even thought about that, though. It wasn't until Delacour showed me that newspaper…"

"Wait, Delacour? Hercule Delacour? That old Poirot rip-off? Did he figure it out about Peter?"

"No, but he had a hunch about the newspaper you saw Peter in. He showed me the photo, which was of Ron and his family…and I recognised Peter. One thing led to another, and, well…"

Sirius gave a barking laugh. "Oh, what I would have given to see the look on that rat's face when he got caught! Please tell me you were there, that I can watch it in a pensieve or something!"

"I wasn't there, but I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be willing to lend a memory or two." Remus smirked impishly, knowing what he was going to say would make Sirius astonished. "Of course, we couldn't have done it without Severus. He had some Veritaserum on hand to give to Peter."

"Wait, what? _Snivellous?_ He helped catch Peter? Oh, Merlin, tell me you're not serious!"

"No, you're Sirius." The three children and Sirius groaned at the bad pun, Sirius especially so as he was fond of making those jokes, and he had walked right into that one. "But even if I was joking around, it'd be worth it to see the look on your face!" Remus chortled. "But really, Severus did help."

Sirius gaped, doing a bad impression of a goldfish. His brain, deciding it wanted nothing to do with the impossibility of Severus Snape helping to catch Peter Pettigrew, decided to focus on something else. His grey eyes flickered over to Harry. "Harry…" he muttered hoarsely. "Merlin, but you've grown…"

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "Mr Delacour told me that you knew my father, and Professor Lupin. He was also the one to get me thinking about what happened."

Sirius chuckled. "Figures that one of the few people to believe in my innocence doesn't live in Britain."

"He doubted your guilt," Lupin said. "He wasn't certain of your innocence."

"Better than anyone else here," Sirius said, in a quiet, bitter voice. Seeing Lupin's wince of self-reproach, Sirius said, "It's okay, Remus. We suspected you of being the spy, remember? We were all jumping at shadows and suspecting friends and enemies. Dark times."

"True."

For a time, they were silent, until Hermione spoke up. "Mr Black, sir…"

"Just call me Sirius, Miss…?"

"Hermione Granger. How did you escape Azkaban? I mean, it's meant to be inescapable, isn't it?"

The escaped convict gave a painful grin. "Until my name is completely cleared, I'll have to keep that a secret. Sorry. Don't want to give them any ideas on how to keep me locked up. Is Dumbledore willing to listen?"

"Thanks to Delacour, and our capture of Peter, yes," Lupin said.

Sirius looked at Lupin, as if trying to discern any signs of deceit in his old friend, before nodding. "Okay, I'll go with you. But as Padfoot. I was planning on entering the castle tonight, trying to grab Peter, try to kill him. But…if you're telling the truth, I don't need to. Okay, lead the way." And with that, Sirius changed back into the dog.

"But the Dementors…they may still be after him," Ron pointed out.

"Yes, but he's now disguised." Hermione frowned. "Maybe that's how he escaped Azkaban in the first place. Maybe the Dementors didn't recognise him as Sirius Black when he's a dog."

The dog barked happily, and gave a smug grin. "Well, looks like you found that out, Hermione," Harry said with a smile of his own.

* * *

The trip back to Hogwarts was relatively uneventful (Harry still hated passing the Dementors, and Sirius, in his dog form, whined in fear), but Harry knew that this was merely the calm before the storm. Lupin sent a Patronus ahead, sending a message to McGonagall to meet him at the castle gates regarding an urgent matter.

McGonagall was present when they got there. When she saw the dog, she raised an eyebrow, but made little comment, save for bring home a stray. They went through into the castle, until they found an empty classroom. Once they were secure, Sirius changed back. McGonagall was a little startled, but had been expecting this, knowing that Pettigrew had been an Animagus. She archly asked, "When was the last time you had a bath, Mr Black?"

"Umm…when I swam ashore from Azkaban?" Sirius said rather tentatively.

"I see. I will go and fetch Albus, as well as Mr Delacour. Please wait here."

They didn't have long to wait. Dumbledore and Delacour soon came back with McGonagall, and a reunion of sorts commenced. Dumbledore apologised profusely for not believing in Sirius as much as he should have. Harry noted that Sirius didn't quite accept the apology. He seemed warmer towards Delacour, though this was understandable, given that Delacour was the man who was behind getting Pettigrew.

"I think we all have some catching up to do," Dumbledore said.

"Indeed we do," Sirius said, shooting a look at Harry. "It's about time I got to know my godson."

"Your what?" Harry asked. This was definitely news to him!

"Didn't you tell him?" Sirius demanded of Dumbledore, his eyes wide and wild. He then turned to Lupin. "Didn't you tell Harry that I'm his godfather?"

"Damn," Lupin muttered, abashed. "I knew there was something…"

 **CHAPTER 12 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it, Sirius finally making a proper appearance.**

 **God, it was hard getting this chapter out. Not so sure how long the next chapter will take either.**

 **Over 68K views! Ironically, for being one of my less-updated works, this is the most popular so far. I think that a week after this chapter is posted (assuming I don't write and post any more in the meantime, which is unlikely, but still possible), it might hit the 75K mark.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Klaw117** **: I'm still deciding how to deal with that. Come hell or highwater, Harry is still going to end up in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, assuming I manage to get that far.**

 **Wizardmon0073** **: My portrayal of Dumbledore is in this work of a deeply flawed man, and his treatment of Sirius at the time of Sirius' so-called crime is a reflection of this. As for him having no power to rescind the Kiss on Sight order, I imagine it's because Dumbledore is afraid of losing what power he has if he throws his weight around too much. His power was reduced badly in _The Order of the Phoenix_ thanks to Fudge. My view of Dumbledore when I try to portray him heroically (as well as the canon Dumbledore) is that he's trying to maintain his power so that he can try to protect Harry, along with his charges. He may not do the best job at it, but he tries.**

 **Dovahkiin1503** **: I'm sure that's fanon, not canon.**

 **jgkitarel** **: Thanks. That's exactly what I was going for: a more realistic, slow-burn romance rather than love at first sight. I** ** _sneer_** **at love at first sight: there's infatuation and lust at first sight, but rarely love.**

 **matt (a guest)** **: If by 'hruna', you mean 'Harry/Luna', I like it, and I think more should be done, albeit in the right way. Out of the non-canonical ships, I prefer Harry/Hermione and Harry/Luna, though I won't say no to a well-handled Harry/Fleur ship (which is why I'm attempting this with this story). I'm actually intending a Harry/Luna ship in two of my other Harry Potter stories. If I write later stories in the Cetra Heritage Saga (my crossover series with** ** _Final Fantasy VII_** **), it will definitely end up as a Harry/Luna ship, and should I reach that point in** ** _Sins of the Father_** **(my crossover with** ** _Naruto_** **), it will be Harry/Luna too.**

 **1\. I made that up. Obviously. I just wanted a plausible reason for Harry to go to Hogsmeade and encounter Sirius, without the whole Marauder's Map thing, though the Map WILL make an appearance.**


	14. Chapter 13: Sirius Resolve

**CHAPTER 13:**

 **SIRIUS RESOLVE**

Hercule Delacour found it amusing to watch the conflagration that followed when Sirius realised nobody had told Harry that Sirius was his godfather. Hercule hadn't been told himself, but he could understand why Harry was kept out of the loop, at least before they had learned of his innocence. The thought of being betrayed by his own godfather may have spurred Harry to do something rash.

Of course, try explaining that to a man who had escaped from Azkaban only relatively recently. Even a couple of months on the run hadn't done much to repair Sirius' psyche, though the fact that he was remotely sane at all was astonishing. The Dementors were not known for their ability to help their victims retain their sanity, after all.

As Sirius ranted and raged against Dumbledore, who remained remarkably calm, Hercule went over to Harry, and said, quietly, "I don't think you should mention the Dursleys yet."

Unfortunately, Sirius had prodigious ears, and mid-rant, he wheeled to face Hercule. "What was that about the Dursleys?"

 _Sacre bleu_ , Hercule groaned inwardly. _I just put my foot in it, didn't I?_ Eventually, with an apologetic look to Dumbledore, who nodded resignedly, knowing this was going to make things worse, Hercule said, "Harry is currently residing with the Dursleys. And, Monsieur Black, before you explode, there was a good reason behind it. Several, in fact. One, you were thought to be a traitor. Two, Petunia Dursley is Harry's closest relative by blood, even if she is a Muggle. And three, there are blood wards erected around the Dursley's residence."

Sirius' mouth worked up and down like a spasmodic ventriloquist's dummy. He then settled for wheeling on Dumbledore again, and snarling, "You left Harry with _them!_ "

"Please, Sirius…"

"You left Harry with _Petunia?!_ She hated us and our world! She was a jealous bitch who would do anything to get revenge on her sister if she thought she could get away with it!" Sirius roared. "And that's without going into that goddamned walrus she married! They're like Squibs with Pureblood attitudes! If Harry has been left with them for the past twelve years, I'm surprised he's still breathing, let alone _sane!_ " Sirius whirled, and strode up to Harry, taking him by the shoulders. "I'm sorry, Pup. What did they do to you? What did they do to you?"

"Sirius, you're frightening the boy…" Dumbledore said.

"Shut up!" Sirius snarled. "You've done enough to him, you antediluvian, senile old fossil!"

Something inside Dumbledore seemed to snap, and he bellowed, "Sirius Orion Black, _you will listen to me!_ "

So startled was Sirius, he whipped around and obeyed immediately. Hercule was reminded once more of the fact that Dumbledore commanded great respect, despite his air of kindliness and apparent senility. His power and charisma still had a hold, even on the embittered and half-deranged Sirius Black. The fact that his tone was not unlike that of a headmaster chiding a wayward child didn't hurt.

Dumbledore, now that he had Sirius' undivided attention, told him about the blood wards, and specifics about them. And Sirius, to his credit, listened attentively. He asked a few pointed questions. When Dumbledore had finished, he turned away with a snarl of anger. "I don't like it. I understand what you did and why you did it, but I don't like it. I saw Harry in Little Whinging. I wondered why he looked the way he did. I had this nagging feeling that he might have been sent to live with the Dursleys, but I didn't think you would be so stupid as to…" He emitted a snarl of anger. "And the blood wards clearly don't stop the Dursleys from harming him!"

"So…what will you do about it, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked. It was a serious question.

Sirius began pacing. "Assuming I get fully exonerated, I might have considered opening up the old home, but I'm not sure I want to go there, or expose Harry to it." He looked at Dumbledore. "Do you know whether there are any available houses on Privet Drive?"

"No. Sirius, if you are thinking of…"

"Intimidating the Dursleys into keeping their hands off Harry, yes. I know you think that they could change, but sometimes you have to punish people like that, or at least threaten it. I'm not going to do anything to the Dursleys beyond a few hexes and jinxes, though I'm sure they deserve more than that, but I want to make sure that my godson will live to become an adult!"

Dumbledore fixed Sirius with a level gaze. "And you are resolved to do so? I cannot dissuade you?"

"What're you going to do? Confund me? Use the Imperius Curse?"

After a moment, Dumbledore said, "No. I only ask that you use moderation. Arabella lives on an adjacent street. Perhaps you can room with her, if you can tolerate cats and kneazles."

"Arabella?" Harry asked, his brows knitting together. "Wait, you mean Mrs Figg? You know her?"

"She's a Squib I set to watch over things in Privet Drive," Dumbledore admitted. "Alas, I ignored some of the things she reported. In any case, we are getting ahead of ourselves. We need to make sure that Sirius is fully exonerated before we can make any such arrangements. Sirius, I will have to ask that you remain here while I contact the Ministry. Monsieur Delacour, if you would please accompany me."

Hercule nodded, and accompanied Dumbledore out of the room. "Are you giving him time to catch up with his godson?"

The old man nodded. "I owe him that much, and more, for making that mistake all those years ago. I won't forfeit Harry's safety, but if I can get Sirius to calm down, then he might be a better means of keeping the Dursleys under control. Harry needs some more happiness in his life. Which is why I am glad that your daughter is corresponding with him. I really have made students here perhaps a touch too insular. Broadening one's mind requires broadening one's horizons. Your daughter presumably discusses Magical France and Beauxbatons with him, and I haven't failed to notice that Harry is becoming a little more critical and inquiring after knowing you."

"Not a bad thing, no?"

"No, true," Dumbledore said with a weary chuckle. "I try to be the gently-guiding hand, but in truth, I have put a yoke on the boy. I, Voldemort, and…well, never mind about that. I am an old man, Hercule, and an old man accumulates many mistakes, and I fear I will continue to accumulate many more before my time finally comes to an end." He frowned, seeming to contemplate something or other, before he finally asked in a tentative tone, "Apropos of nothing, how are your Occlumency skills?"

"Quite excellent," Hercule said. "Why?"

Dumbledore seemed to consider this, before he said, "It may be, Monsieur Delacour, that I may need to personally retain your services before long. I need to think on this very carefully…"

* * *

As she watched Harry and Sirius discuss their lives (Sirius didn't push Harry on the topic of the Dursleys, she noticed, and Harry avoided talking about them), Hermione realised she didn't know that much about her friend. Harry was probably the first friend she had made when she came to Hogwarts, and certainly one of her few friends who didn't view her simply as a helpful homework consultant. And yet, most of what she knew about him admittedly came from wizarding texts, about half of which, in retrospect, seemed to be full of shit, pardon her French.

Had he been abused by the Dursleys? Okay, Dumbledore had mentioned those blood ward things while talking to Sirius, trying to calm him down, but Hermione was beginning to truly realise that Harry's home-life was probably worse than she thought. The real question was, what could she do about it? Between Harry's safety and his happiness, well, it wasn't that easy a choice, though it was astonishing, given what little she knew about the matter, that he was functioning as well as he was.

After a lull in the conversation, Hermione asked, quietly, "Mr Black?"

"I told you earlier, call me Sirius, please. Mr Black was my father, and I hated him," Sirius said with a sardonic smile.

"Sirius…how come the Dementors don't recognise you as an Animagus?"

Sirius rubbed his head. "That's a good question. I think it's because your thoughts and emotions are different as an Animagus. They thought I was losing my mind, which wasn't that far from the truth, really. There was only one thing that kept me truly sane."

"And what was that?" Ron asked, curious.

"The knowledge that I was innocent of everything I had been charged with," Sirius said. "You can't call it a happy thought, more of an obsession, but it gave me an anchor to reality, to the faintest glimmer of hope that I could get free. Technically, I could have escaped at any time. But it took knowledge of where Peter was, with you, to spur me into escaping."

"All this time, I had a Death Eater in bed with me," Ron said, shuddering with disgust.

"Peter's a coward," Sirius muttered. "He had a comfortable life, hidden with you, so why would he do anything to endanger that? He was braver back when we were students."

Lupin chuckled, only to frown at something. Then, he whipped open the door (which he was standing near), causing a pair of redheads to tumble through, holding a piece of parchment. "Fred and George Weasley!" McGonagall yelped, scandalised. "What are you doing here?!"

Lupin, looking at the parchment, plucked it from their fingers. "I think I know what they're doing here," Lupin said. "Look, Sirius. Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Sirius walked over, and then chuckled, before looking down at the Weasley twins, who were staring at the bedraggled figure of Sirius Black in confusion. "Well, well, well…have we found our successors?"

Fred and George looked at each other, and then up at Sirius and Lupin. "You can't be serious," Fred said.

"I am Sirius, it's my name. But you may know me by my nom de guerre of Padfoot," Sirius said, with a theatrical bow.

"And I am known as Moony," Lupin said with a bow of his own.

"Merlin's balls!" George yelped.

"You're two of the Marauders?" Fred demanded.

"At your service," Lupin and Sirius said, bowing theatrically once more.

Fred and George, who had not yet gotten off the floor, immediately prostrated themselves further and grovelled. "We are not worthy to be in your presence, O Masters of Pranks!" Fred lamented.

"We humbly beseech you to tutor us in the ways of the prankster, O Discordian Ones!" George begged.

 _Oh for God's sake_ , Hermione thought exasperatedly to herself at their grovelling, as funny as it was.

"As amusing as it is to see the twins genuflecting to some adults for a change," McGonagall remarked, "what does the parchment have to do with them being here?"

Sirius looked at Lupin, who shrugged, before the former fugitive turned back to his old teacher. "It's one of the few comprehensive, or nearly so, maps of Hogwarts. It also tracks people on the map, shows their names too. I mean, you do know that's how we managed to get away with a lot of what we did, didn't you?"

"I'll confiscate it," Lupin said, tapping the parchment with his wand. "Mischief managed."

"Wow, you really _are_ Moony!" Fred said, his eyes wide, as the map's lines and drawings faded away. "So…Wormtail is…"

"You know the rat?" Lupin asked. "Scabbers?"

"No way!" George gasped. "So, Prongs is…"

"Harry's father," Sirius said. "James Potter."

The twins turned to Harry, their eyes wide with awe and wonder. "All this time, we were in the presence of pranking royalty!" George exclaimed.

Ron, with a chuckle, said quietly to Harry, "You know they're going to start pestering you to join them for pranks, right?"

"There will be no such thing!" McGonagall said primly. "Remus, Sirius, please discourage your…successors from trying to do anything further to cause trouble?"

The four pranksters merely gave McGonagall a smile that said they would be doing nothing of the sort. _They're incorrigible_ , Hermione thought to herself. Even Professor Lupin, for all his bookish and quiet nature, had a mischievous streak.

"We'll talk later," Sirius said. "Once this is all settled, and my name's fully cleared, then we can have a nice chinwag. Just keep quiet about me being here."

"Our lips are sealed!" Fred and George chorused, before making their way out.

"…I just _know_ I'll be needing some sort of headache potion for the rest of the year," McGonagall remarked. "Merlin knows how much I went through when you four were in Gryffindor."

"Yes, sorry about that," Lupin said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Have you ever tried Muggle remedies? Aspirin? Paracetamol? I can tell you from experience, they work."

"Not at the moment," McGonagall said archly.

Sirius laughed, before turning to Harry. "Harry…I promise you, I may have been…indisposed over the last little while, but I will try to be there for you. Once this mess is over, I will be the godfather I should have been. Okay?"

Harry nodded, and Hermione smiled to herself. Hopefully, this would all turn out well for Harry. He was probably due some good things in his life, if her suspicions about him were true.

* * *

Dumbledore considered the situation as he and Delacour made their way to his office, and the Floo. Sirius was on the verge of being exonerated, an additional check against the Dursleys might be in place, hopefully without disrupting the blood wards, and they had caught the real culprit behind the Potters' deaths.

However, his heart was heavy. Because he knew Harry's happiness could very well be short-lived. He needed to find a way that that wouldn't be the case. And he believed that he should begin to accelerate his plans. Not so much that haste caused him to stumble, but enough that a certain problem could be dealt with, and time bought for Harry. Time enough, perhaps, to save his life, which even now, he suspected had the Sword of Damocles hanging over the boy's head.

Which was why he was debating with himself to retain Hercule Delacour for a new purpose. Dumbledore was an intelligent man who knew where to look. But now, having seen Delacour in action, and showing that Sirius Black was innocent, and that they had all erred, even Dumbledore, Dumbledore knew that the man could provide a fresh perspective, badly needed.

Ever since the end of the last school year, when the Chamber of Secrets fiasco was brought to a close (thankfully with no deaths), Dumbledore had confirmation of one of his greatest fears. But that knowledge also meant that he could get a start on stopping Voldemort for good.

Dumbledore needed to track down and destroy any horcruxes Voldemort had created. And perhaps Hercule Delacour could help him find them…

 **CHAPTER 13 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Sirius confronting Dumbledore, and the twins meeting their idols. Plus, Dumbledore doing the unthinkable, and considering getting outside help with the horcruxes.**

 **Anyway, it'll probably be some time before I will bring out a new chapter, partly because I'm burnt out from doing other fanfics, and partly because I'm not sure what to do for the next few chapters, between this point and the Quidditch World Cup. I'll think of something, but don't think the next chapter will be coming any time soon.**

 **Incidentally, 86K VIEWS?! 0_0**

 **Review-answering time. I won't answer them all, obviously. Firstly, to those who complain about my annotations:** ** _stop complaining_** **. This is how I roll. I do annotations for my fanfics.**

 **Secondly, a couple of reviewers thought it was irresponsible to allow Ron to witness Pettigrew being interrogated. But if they just took the rat off him, and he wasn't in the loop, he would have complained, and could have wrecked the whole thing. So better to allow him to see it, and swear him to secrecy. Harry was kept out of the loop because he might want to kill Pettigrew, as would Lupin.**

 **HaywireEagle** **: I think the Purebloods would be into phrenology, certainly, if only to justify their beliefs (I saw something like it in BioShock Infinite, where the racist founders of Columbia use phrenology to justify Comstock's superiority to Native Americans). As for the dream sequence, yeah, I did have a bit of trouble with it being a bit cheesy and ham-fisted.**

 **old-crow** **: I always thought that McGonagall had a somewhat snarky streak in her at times, it's just better hidden than most.**

 **No numbered annotations this chapter. You may breathe a sigh of relief.**


	15. Chapter 14: Bartemius Est Mort, Vive

**CHAPTER 14:**

 **BARTEMIUS EST MORT, VIVE BARTEMIUS!**

It is a cliché in the public perception of chaos theory that the difference between a bright, sunny day and a brutal, terrible storm can be caused by the simple flap of a butterfly's wing. While this is a gross oversimplification of the butterfly effect, the truth is that small, innocuous things can lead to massive consequences few could foresee.

And yet, some things remain the same, and others remain different. Perhaps the first flutter of a butterfly's wings was when Hercule Delacour chose his career. Another flutter was when he resigned from the French Aurors. And yet another was when Amelia Bones and Albus Dumbledore hired him to investigate the escape of Sirius Black, as well as find the man.

These consequences can often be unintended, unforeseen. Some of these consequences are bad, others are good. But they tend to be impersonal, despite the efforts of those making the decisions that lead to these metaphorical beats of a butterfly's wing.

It would be of cold comfort to Harry Potter and Hercule Delacour to learn that they had been, indirectly, responsible for events that would lead once more to the rise of Voldemort. And it started when the results of Pettigrew's capture and Sirius Black surrendering himself to the DMLE filtered back to the man who had put Black into Azkaban in the first place.

* * *

Barty Crouch Senior stared at the missives he had been given. The first was cold and clinical, from his successor, Amelia Bones. She laid out, in no uncertain terms, how badly he had fucked up his handling of the Sirius Black case. They had found, and caught, Peter Pettigrew, and had subjected him to interrogation through Veritaserum. Black, on Halloween, had surrendered himself at Hogwarts, and had also been subject to similar interrogation.

As he stared, he realised, to the depths of his soul, his complete and utter folly. Back then, his only intention was to wipe every trace of Voldemort's forces from the face of the Earth. It frustrated him that many were able to plead the Imperius Curse, like Malfoy. In any case, the fact that the Potters may have switched Secret Keepers simply didn't occur to him.

Barty Crouch Senior was not a good man, but neither was he a truly bad one. He was a hard man trying to do good in the world, and it seemed that he had badly screwed the pooch, to use the vulgar American term, on this.

The letter from the Frenchman, Delacour, was even worse. The man tore apart the case and pointed out a ridiculous number of things that should have been evident in hindsight. The possibility always existed that Black was a traitor, but the possibility also always existed that Black wasn't. Delacour was angry, and rightly so. For all Crouch's determination to see justice done, justice most certainly hadn't been done. Instead, Crouch had consigned an innocent man to Azkaban without trial, because everybody believed that his sins were as Black as his name.

With a bitter snarl of anguish, Crouch stormed to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face from the sink, and then looked at himself in the mirror. A thin, hard-faced man with an immaculately-groomed thin moustache stared back at him with bloodshot eyes. This was not the face of the man the Death Eaters feared and loathed. No. This was the face of a man well past his prime, broken by his family's demise. His son became a Death Eater, and he sent him to Azkaban, despite his son's pleas. His wife fell ill, and begged for him to swap him for her son. And now, he kept his son at home, under a perpetual Imperius and an Invisibility Cloak, tended to only by his House Elf, Winky.

The roar of his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Suddenly, something within his head seemed to burst, like a bolt of lightning went through it, and with a cry, he collapsed to the ground. Already stressed by Black's escape and Fudge's incompetence, the revelation of his folly and its exposure had caused him to suffer a stroke.

It had one immediate consequence. His Imperius spell faded with his concentration. Although not unconscious or dead, Barty Crouch Senior could no longer keep control of his son.

And Barty Crouch Junior was soon aware of that.

He flung off the Invisibility Cloak, and listened to the sound of Winky weeping. He followed it until he found Winky, crying over the body of his father, who, was conscious, was only barely so. The son wrinkled his nose in disgust when he realised his father had lost control over his bowels. His father looked up at him with an effort. "Son…" he croaked, struggling to lift his good arm in a plea for help.

Barty Crouch Junior batted his hand away with a contemptuous sneer. "Didn't you tell me at that farce of a trial that you had no son?" the thin, blonde-haired young man snarled. He then peered down at his father with an expression of mock concern. "Oh dear, Mr Head of International Cooperation, you've done yourself a mischief. A good thing you've had a stroke, too. The Aurors will see a stroke…instead of what I'm going to do to you." He looked at his hand, waggling fingers experimentally. "Did you know that it is possible to cast the Unforgivables without a wand? Oh, it's amongst the most tiring things to do with wandless magic, but the Dark Lord, he trained me well. I still had my doubts about being allied to him…until you did what you did to me. First, I'm going to use Legilimency to rip every ounce of usable information from your senile, broken brain. And then, you're going to die."

Which is what he did. Using Legilimency on a mind affected by a stroke was dangerous, but Barty Crouch Junior managed it…and found interesting information. Like on the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Still, a moot point now. He could use it to his advantage later, once he found his master.

Barty Crouches Junior and Senior stared at each other, the latter drooling slightly. The son looked into his father's eyes, pointed a finger at him, and said, "Goodbye, you worthless piece of shit. _Avada Kedavra!_ "

A jet of green light lanced out and smashed into Barty Crouch Senior's head. With a final exhalation, the older man died, his mouth and eyes open in an imbecilic expression.

Winky wailed and began to sob, only for Barty Crouch Junior to snap, "Winky! Leave that worthless lump of meat and shit to rot. I'm your master now."

* * *

After gloving his hands, Barty Crouch Junior examined the letters his father had received, and smirked. He had wondered whether Sirius Black was truly a traitor: Bellatrix Lestrange, Black's cousin and one of Barty's comrades in the Death Eaters, reckoned that he didn't have it in him to betray the Potters. For a moment, Barty idly wondered whether he should try and spring the rat from his trap, before deciding, coldly, to leave him to the Dementor's Kiss. According to these letters, he had spent the past decade or so hiding at those blood-traitors, the Weasleys, when he could have been searching for the Dark Lord. Anyone else had either turned traitor, or else were still in Azkaban.

No, if Barty was to find his master, then he would have to do so alone.

Would he try to go after Harry Potter? No. Besides the fact that Voldemort himself probably wished the brat dead by his own hands, Potter was at Hogwarts, and it would be hard to penetrate their defences. His face would also be well-known enough, to the staff at least.

He needed to leave the house first, and find somewhere to hide for the time being. He also needed to rest: casting the Killing Curse wandlessly was tiring. To stay in the same house as the corpse of his late and (by him, certainly) unlamented father would be inviting trouble.

He demanded Winky take him somewhere safe to rest before they set off. And she did so, supplying him with a tent, to camp out in a forest not far from the Crouch home. It wasn't great lodgings, but beggars can't be choosers.

As he lay back in the tent (not even a magical one!), Barty contemplated the places the Dark Lord would go to. Eastern Europe, one of the larger strongholds of Dark Magic, seemed like a good start. Voldemort had often spoken of haunts in Albania, so Barty resolved to search there.

* * *

As he travelled across England, using mostly Muggle means of transport (the irony was not lost on the Death Eater, though he thought it a perfectly good means of subterfuge, blending in amongst Muggles), he heard news of Black's overdue trial and Pettigrew's own trial. As he thought, Black was exonerated, and Pettigrew subjected to the Kiss.

His father had been found, dead, and as he had hoped, nobody seemed to think it anything other than a stroke. They had wondered about Winky, but masterless House Elves were not much of a concern. He was concerned, though, to note that that canny cow Amelia Bones had put out an appeal for Winky to come forward, or for anyone who saw her to bring her to the attention of the DMLE. Not that that would happen, with Winky under his thumb. There probably were some suspicions of something happening, but they just seemed to be things that didn't add up after his father had a stroke.

He took the ferry from Dover to Calais, having stopped briefly in London to obtain (under an illusion spell) a wand from Knockturn Alley. At Calais, he encountered, briefly, a woman he was sure was part-Veela. He didn't know it, and would only suspect it a year later, but he had met Apolline Delacour, who had been going over to meet her husband as he finalised his work on the Black case.

Once he was finished in France, he began making his way east, on his quest to find his master…

* * *

Hercule Delacour was perturbed. Shortly after he had sent Barty Crouch Senior a rather acid missive about his handling of the Black case, Crouch had had a stroke and died. While Delacour did feel a mild pang of guilt of causing it, he was actually more concerned about a few details. Crouch's House Elf had gone AWOL. And while he was sure that Crouch had died of stress-related stroke, he also knew it was dangerous to make assumptions, especially with a man who had a knack for making enemies. The House Elf could have been a decisive witness, at least as far as Delacour was concerned: few in the Magical World considered House Elves to be reliable witnesses.

It wasn't the only thing perturbing him, though. While Black had been exonerated, and Pettigrew sentenced to the Kiss, he hadn't gone home yet, partly because he needed to finish his work with Amelia Bones, and partly because Dumbledore had all but said he may need to retain his services on another matter. It seemed like tonight, after he had allowed Dumbledore to test his Occlumency shields, he would finally get his answer.

Dumbledore had asked him to meet him near the Great Lake of Hogwarts, presumably as a precaution against eavesdroppers. Whatever it was, he seemed unsure even of the portraits in his office.

Dumbledore was looking at the moonlit lake as Delacour approached. Eventually, he said, "Did you ever know what happened when Harry first came to Hogwarts?"

Hercule frowned. "One of your teachers tried to steal something. I heard rumours that it was the Philosopher's Stone of Nicholas Flamel."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Indeed. Professor Quirrell, however, was sharing his body with a malevolent spirit. The spirit of Voldemort."

Delacour's eyes widened, and he inhaled sharply. " _Mon dieu!_ So he is alive after all," Delacour muttered. Then, he remembered something, and wheeled to face Dumbledore. "Harry, he knew the true name of Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He said he did not think he was allowed to talk about how he came to know. Was it then? Or was it the last school year?"

"The latter," Dumbledore said quietly. He reached into his robes, and handed Delacour a badly damaged book, a book that looked like it had had a hole burnt through it with acid.

While it was hard to see it at night, even in the moonlight, Hercule saw, barely, on the back, that it was a diary from a Muggle bookseller. He even saw parts of 'T.M Riddle', faintly, just above the burnt hole on the front page. "This was his diary," Hercule hissed in horror.

"More than that. I have had many theories about how he cheated death. When Harry brought this to me, I had it confirmed, though I lied to him. I told him I had no idea what it was."

"What caused the hole?"

"Basilisk venom, one of the few things that can destroy a horcrux."

Hercule frowned. A horcrux? He didn't know much about those, only that they were amongst the darkest of Dark artifacts. "And what is a horcrux?"

"A container for a splinter of his soul."

Hercule listened with mounting horror as Dumbledore told him what he knew of horcruxes. Using murder and a dark ritual to split the soul, one could place a fragment of one's soul into an object. As long as said object survived, one's soul would remain tethered to this world.

"I have a disturbing feeling," Dumbledore admitted, "that Voldemort would not have stopped at creating one horcrux. He had an immense fear of death. And as long as these horcruxes exist, so will he, not only continuing to plague us, but also attempting to kill Harry Potter. He may exist only as a wraith at this time, but there are means through which he can create a new body for himself."

"I see," Delacour said, finally beginning to grasp why Dumbledore wanted to tell him this…and why the utmost secrecy was required. "If Voldemort knew that we knew that these vile things existed, he would attempt to hide them. I presume that is what you wish me to do: to try and track down these abominable things."

Dumbledore nodded. "It is not a decision I have come to lightly. You may find this hard to believe, but I do find it hard to entrust others at times. It is my own fault, of course. I find it hard to believe people are capable of keeping secrets, and that anyone other than myself can do anything about these matters. But your handling of the fiasco around Black and Pettigrew has shown me that not only am I far from infallible, but there are others who may be entrusted with these secrets. I have begun my own researches into what Voldemort may have turned into horcruxes. It is in the earliest of stages, but I have begun perhaps as you may have: by looking into his past."

Hercule nodded. It wasn't a bad idea. "Then we will look for these vile things together…"

 **CHAPTER 14 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **I was surprised I got this chapter out as quickly as I did. I was actually at a loss to figure out what to do next. And I was also at a loss at how I would get Harry into the Tri-Wizard Tournament, as I was wondering, with Pettigrew in custody, how would he get free? I had some inspiration when I decided to focus on the Crouches. Part of this chapter was inspired by** ** _The Accidental Animagus_** **by White Squirrel, though in that story, Crouch Senior is actually attacked. By whom, well, I won't spoil for those who are yet to read that excellent story.**

 **I think for the next chapter, I may concentrate a bit more on Fleur. No promises, though, and said chapter may be some time coming. Oh, and in case you're wondering, the Tri-Wizard Tournament won't be called off despite Crouch Senior dying.**

 **I'm not answering any reviews here, as most don't need answering, and I've answered the only two needing it in private correspondence. No numbered annotations this time either, though I'm sure many of you don't care.**

 **100K views! Holy shit! 0_0**


	16. Chapter 15: A Flower at Christmas

**CHAPTER 15:**

 **A FLOWER AT CHRISTMAS**

All too soon (or not soon enough, depending on your point of view), Christmas was upon Hogwarts. Harry felt little more than relief that the trials of his godfather and that damned traitorous rat had gone through so quickly. What he was worried about, however, was what to get his newest friend. Fleur was staying at Beauxbatons during Christmas, just as Harry was staying at Hogwarts.

It was actually quite hard. Leaving aside the fact that he knew his other friends better, and thus knew what to get them, he also wondered, what could he possibly get Fleur that she either didn't have already, or else something that would be good and useful, without being dull.

It was his godfather who had hit upon a solution. Sirius Black was grateful that Hercule Delacour had exonerated him…and highly amused that Harry was in correspondence with Delacour's part-Veela daughter. He teased Harry without mercy about dating a 'hot French chick' (Sirius' words, obviously, and not Harry's). So, on Harry's behalf, he sent an enchanted mirror to Fleur, with the approval of Hercule (once he made sure there weren't any other, more voyeuristic charms on them, though Black wouldn't cross that line), and gave another to Harry. Sirius would have to go back to his ancestral home to get the ones he and James Potter used, but he enchanted these mirrors to act in the same way.

" _It's quicker and easier than owl mail_ ," Sirius had said. " _It was meant for a way for me and your father to speak to each other when we were in separate detentions._ "

Hermione, of course, wanted to know which charms Sirius had used. Sirius promised to get them a set, though he had already decided on his presents for Harry's two main friends. For Hermione, he got a rare book on the history of the most famous Wizarding families in Britain, one that had been sitting in his vault at Gringotts. For Ron, he got a Quaffle autographed by the entirety of the Chudley Cannons team. He had already gotten Ron an owl as a replacement for Scabbers, a hyperactive little thing that Ron called Pigwidgeon. He also got them a joint Christmas present: tickets for them and their families (save for Harry's relatives, anyway) to go to the Quidditch World Cup finals next year. Even at this stage, tickets were expensive and hard to get. Ron had actually hugged Sirius in sheer ecstatic gratitude.

During Christmas Day, soon after breakfast, while they were in the common room, Fleur called. " _Hello, Harry? Are you there?_ " her voice, with the French accent, wafted from where he left it on a table.

Harry smiled when he picked up the mirror. Hermione and Ron crowded around next to him, and Harry was surprised to see two other girls doing the same behind Fleur. Ron gawked. While the Veela allure didn't come through the mirror connection, she was still very beautiful. "Wow. Hey, is one of you Audrey?"

"Bonjour, Monsieur _Weasley_ ," the dark-haired one with the glasses (who reminded the three Hogwarts students of a more shy and less glum Moaning Myrtle) said quietly.

" _Is this…um, what do the Muggles call it?_ " Fleur frowned. " _Ahah! A_ conférence téléphonique?"

"Huh?" Harry asked.

"She means a conference call," Hermione explained. She said in French (Harry was learning the language from her, so he got the gist of what she said), " _I'm sorry, Fleur. We were just here when you called._ "

"It's not a problem," Fleur replied in French, before switching back to her accented English. " _You must be Hermione Granger. And you are Ronald Weasley_ , n'est-ce pas?"

Ron nodded, trying to keep his brain engaged and his jealousy mode off. "And who's your other friend?"

" _I'm Marie!_ " the red-headed girl cheered. "Joyeux noël!"

* * *

Despite the crowding, it was actually quite a nice talk. Ron at least had a name to put to a face for his postal chess correspondent (and was surprised at how shy she was), and Hermione enjoyed talking to a couple of French Muggleborns, as well as talking to a part-Veela. They even held parts of the conversation in French, which Harry struggled to follow, and Ron couldn't. Eventually, though, Harry asked if he could go back to the dorms for some privacy.

Fleur, on her end, asked her friends to give her some privacy. Well, Harry was sure that was what she said in French. Marie said something in French with a sly smile that was probably lascivious, for Fleur looked scandalised, and even blushed, before responding in irritated French back at her. Marie merely laughed as she left Fleur to speak with Harry alone.

For a moment, they sat in awkward silence, before Harry broke it. "Nice friends you have."

"Merci. _And yours are too. Though I dread what to think what will happen when I am actually in the presence of Ronald Weasley._ " She gave a small chuckle. " _He was…what is the word…gawking, I believe?_ "

Harry nodded. "Don't worry about it. He's a good friend. He just needs a wake-up call sometimes. Hermione didn't annoy you, did she?"

" _Not at all. It is flattering to have a Muggleborn want to know about part-Veela, though I believe she needed to pause to breathe more often._ "

Harry laughed at that. "It's good to actually talk to you again. Letters are nice and all, but, well, it's nice to actually see and talk to you."

Fleur chuckled ruefully. " _Well, you are seeing a part-Veela. To see such beauty is not a bad thing, no?_ "

"Yeah, but that's not the only reason. I enjoyed our correspondence. This is almost like having a telephone."

"Oui _, it is_ , n'est-ce pas? _It is like those things the Muggles have…oh, what's the word? A_ portable? _Um_ … _a_ téléphone mobile!"

"Oh, a cell phone(1)," Harry said, enlightenment dawning.

"Oui, _that is it! Except I believe that the Muggles do not have the ability to talk face to face like this. Then again, given what_ Papa _has told me about Muggle technology, they may have that ability before long._ " She sighed, shaking her head. " _And idiots in our world look down upon them. I only look down upon them because they are filled with the same idiots as our world is._ Maman _said that there is a word for what I am at times. A misanthrope._ "

"You hide it well," Harry said.

" _Beauty hides many things well_ ," Fleur said quietly. For a moment, she seemed dour, contemplative, even sad. Her beauty became a melancholy one. Harry wanted to give her a hug, if only to make her feel better. But she shook herself out of it. " _Actually, I have been talking to my friend Marie, and I think it is time that I let you know something._ "

"What's that?"

" _I may be coming to Hogwarts next year._ " She held up a hand, cutting off his excited reply. " _Nothing is definite, you must understand. But there are strong and repeated rumours that they are reviving the Tri-Wizard Tournament next year. Even with the death of Bartemius Crouch, they are still apparently going ahead._ "

"The Tri-Wizard Tournament? What is that?"

" _Ah, yes. You would not know, living with those repulsive and close-minded Muggle relatives of yours. The Tournament is a contest between the main three European magical schools: Beauxbatons, Hogwarts, and Durmstrang. The best wizard or witch is selected from each school to participate in three Tasks. All three are dangerous to some degree or other: competitors have perished in prior Tri-Wizard Tournaments. However, Marie believes that they are putting in more safety measures this time. Older students will be the only ones allowed to participate, for example. In all likelihood, only those who have passed at least the first level of magical education certification. I believe in your country, they are the O.W.L.S. Or maybe they shall restrict it to students in their final year of schooling. Mine is next year. In any case, they intend to hold this first revived Tri-Wizard Tournament at Hogwarts. A delegation of students will be sent with each school. We will even take classes there during the year, although Madame Maxime shall probably bring some tutors along._ "

"Wow," Harry breathed. "I mean, if you do actually get to come here, it'd be wonderful." Then, he remembered Malfoy's remarks to Hercule Delacour on the train. "You'd have to be careful, though. I know at least one person would give you grief because you're part-Veela."

" _You mean the Malfoy heir?_ Papa _told me about that little bully. I will keep an eye out for him. He would not know how to handle a real woman, regardless of their heritage._ " Her haughty look, ironically, was very much like Malfoy, both the son and the father, though given who it was directed towards, Harry could overlook that. And he refrained from pointing it out. Fleur, for all her haughtiness, had also bared her soul somewhat to Harry. Malfoy, however, wouldn't deign to confide in Harry Potter.

* * *

They went on to other, more pleasant subjects, and Fleur got the idea to show Harry Beauxbatons. She would be seeing Hogwarts within the year if the rumours panned out, but she wanted to show Harry the magnificence of Beauxbatons at Christmas. She even wanted to have Harry's friends see it. Ron wasn't interested, but Hermione was.

Beauxbatons Palace was situated in the Pyrénées. And as used as he was to the wonder and magic of Hogwarts, Harry had to admit that Beauxbatons was beautiful. He and Hermione gasped in wonder as they saw Beauxbatons' own Great Hall, where, for Christmas, exquisite statues of ice decorated it, and beautiful wood nymphs sang.

They even got an impromptu meeting with the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, the formidable Madame Olympe Maxime, a massively tall and elegant woman with an accent even stronger than Fleur's when she spoke English. The haughty Maxime seemed amused and flattered that a couple of Hogwarts students wished to see Beauxbatons, and was even mildly impressed when Hermione spoke to her in French. Maxime called it acceptable, though Fleur later assured Hermione that her French was actually quite excellent. Hermione had, with help from Hercule, improved her French to the point where she spoke practically like a native French speaker, and Harry was beginning to learn some of the language, thanks to both Hermione and Hercule. It was slow going, partly because he needed to keep up with his schoolwork, but he now knew nearly all of the basic phrases a tourist would need.

Once they were done, Hermione left Harry alone again so he could have one last private talk. At first, though, they didn't speak. Perhaps they had said everything they had wanted to say.

Eventually, it was Fleur who broke the silence. " _This was a good Christmas present, Harry_ ," she said quietly. " _I got to speak with you, and your friends._ "

"Yes. You know, if that thing about the Tri-Wizard Tournament pans out, it'd be great to see you. And I'd bet you'd do very well at it."

" _Assuming I get chosen_." Fleur smiled softly, and that warm smile on her face made her even more beautiful than she usually was. Helen of Troy was said to be the face that launched a thousand ships, but Harry knew that Fleur's face, at that point, would have launched every ship the world over. " _But thank you for your confidence, Harry._ Au revoir."

" _Au revoir_ , Fleur," Harry said quietly.

As Fleur's image faded, Harry laid back on his bed, placing the mirror carefully on the bedside table as he looked up at the ceiling. Hercule had told him, while helping him with his French, that Fleur's name meant, in French, 'flower'. While it was Apolline Delacour who chose that name, Hercule consented simply because he believed that his daughter was a rare bloom indeed.

Harry believed that. At first, she seemed merely a haughty girl who seemed to have it all. But scratch the surface away, and what did you have? They seemed to have that much in common: people only saw what their respective reputations cloaked them in for the most part. He was lucky to have at least four friends about his age (Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville) who could see past that to some degree or another (well, Ginny was still a little starstruck, to tell the truth), and at least a few adults, like Dumbledore, Lupin, and Sirius. And, of course, Fleur's father. Without Hercule, what might have happened with Sirius Black? Could he have been caught by the Dementors and condemned to their kiss? Would he have been forced to remain on the run forever?

In a way, Hercule had given him one of the best Christmas presents ever, albeit well in advance: his godfather. Or dogfather, as Sirius humorously called himself. And the proof of innocence of said dogfather. Okay, he was still going to have to stay with the Dursleys outside of Hogwarts, but Sirius was going to keep more of an eye on matters.

And Fleur had given him another gift, albeit much earlier than Christmas. She had given him her friendship. And considering that the amount of actual friends Harry had about his age, he could probably count on both of his hands, he treasured having another. Time would tell how many of those would last…

 **CHAPTER 15 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **So, a nice interlude with Fleur for Christmas. Sorry if this isn't to your liking: I'm shit at writing romantic stuff (and in any case, the romance is still in the early stages). Still, better than saturating this chapter with purple prose, like some people do. Plus, some foreshadowing.**

 **I don't know when the next chapter will come out. Hell, I'm not sure whether to do anything more about Harry's third year, given that I have pretty much thrown the spanner in the works to canon. Maybe some more Barty Junior, for when he comes across what is left of Voldemort.**

 **Review-answering time.** **Wolphen** **: Oh God, someone actually** ** _enjoys_** **the annotations! Most of the time, I just get bitched at because of them. Thank you, you have just justified me putting them in! :)**

 **Slytherin66** **: I was inspired by a similar chapter from** ** _The Accidental Animagus_** **by White Squirrel. In that fanfic, Barty Junior is characterised rather like an evil Tenth Doctor, complete with catchphrases (seriously, he says "Allons-y!"). Then again, considering who plays him in the film…**

 **Boatandaman** **: While not quite discarded, I'm glad you appreciated my using the newspaper to greater effect than in canon.**

 **spectre4hire** **: Nice to hear from you again. And yes, I thought it good to write things from the POV of Crouch Senior (which a lot of reviewers have been praising me for). In many a fanfic, he's written as a villain, or at least antagonistic. I wanted to add a shade of complexity to the man. He's a man of many regrets in his life, as is Dumbledore, and Crouch Senior is by no means an evil man, just a too hard and too cold one.**

 **As to your request for more Fleur, well, I hope the above chapter satisfies you at least a little.**

 **sunsethill** **: I don't think Rowling planned the Taboo. The in-universe explanation for him not being told (by Dumbledore at least, who told Harry not to fear the name), is probably because it simply slipped Dumbledore's mind. Not a good excuse, but given how many things Dumbledore thinks of at any one time, a plausible one. He didn't think Voldemort would rise to the position where he could use a Taboo spell with impunity again.**

 **1\. Mobile phones did exist in 1993, but I'm pretty sure 'cell phone' was the prevailing term for them. I'm not sure what the French idiom for them was, hence Fleur struggling with the right phrases.**


	17. Chapter 16: The Wraith and His History

**CHAPTER 16:**

 **THE WRAITH AND HIS HISTORY**

It is a frequent literary cliché to set works of horror in Eastern Europe, with Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ proving to be the most prominent. Oddly enough, Bram Stoker, though no wizard or even a Squib, knew a Dutch wizard who was actually the basis for Abraham Van Helsing. And while the real Dracula (aka Vlad the Impaler, or Vlad, the Son of the Dragon) was no vampire, Eastern Europe had been a stronghold of the foul creatures for a long time.

Even so, there was a mystical, isolated feel to Eastern Europe, one that only increased during the Cold War, and even with the Berlin Wall demolished, much of Eastern Europe had a mystique of darkness and isolation. A sense of a place of hidden secrets.

While that much Barty Crouch Junior could agree with, he also thought it depressingly dull and rural for the most part. The sooner he found his master, the better.

His best bet, he was sure, was Albania. He had the ear of the Dark Lord on more than one occasion, and sometimes, Voldemort would wax lyrical about events earlier in his life, including a trip to Albania. He'd never actually stated why, but that mattered little. And given that Albania had quite a bit of history in the Dark Arts, he was sure that Albania should be the first port of call.

It took a few weeks of searching, until he heard rumours of an evil spirit haunting one of the more obscure forests in Albania. The modus operandi sounded like his master, so he decided to head there, Winky in tow.

The forest was dark, spooky, and mist-ridden. So it pretty much ticked the boxes of the traditions of Gothic Horror. But Crouch was not afraid of what he would find there. Well, at least if it was his master. Should it prove to be something else, he had some apprehension.

Winky, of course, was all but pissing herself with fear. Crouch dismissed the House Elf's fears.

It was deep within the forest that they finally found his master, little more than a malformed tumour of a face, sticking out of the side of a stag's face. Immediately, Barty knelt. "My lord."

"Who…who is it that approaches?" The deer moved its head, so that the tumour-like face was facing Barty. "Barty Crouch Junior…" the face whispered. "I had thought you dead."

"Forgive the facetiousness my lord, but as an American Muggle once said, rumours of my death have proved greatly exaggerated. As, of course, have yours."

Voldemort smirked. "And what of your renunciation of my cause? I learned through my last host of what you said at the trial of the Lestranges…who remain in Azkaban."

"My lord, I was filled with doubt even then. I will accept any punishment you wish, but before you do so, I have come to seek you out, and bring you news. Even help in your next advent."

"Hmmm…you are certainly the only one of my followers to be brave enough to seek me out, though what took you so long?"

"The short version is, my father had me under an Imperius. The corpse thought to be mine was my mother's. My father suffered a stroke not long ago, lessening his control over me. I gave him the death he so richly deserved, but not before ripping information from his mind that may be of use to us."

Voldemort stared at Barty, before laughing. "Barty Crouch Senior, smuggling his son out of Azkaban and using the Imperius Curse? Oh, this is rich! I had thought him a worthy opponent on the political side of things, ruthless and cunning. Well, at least you have a halfway decent excuse. So, tell me, what do you have to say?"

Barty told him what he knew, of Sirius Black's escape, of the reveal of Peter Pettigrew as the true traitor, and how he had apparently been masquerading as a pet rat. How a former French Auror called Hercule Delacour had played a key role in exonerating Black, and whose letter, along with Amelia Bones, had triggered his father's stroke. All this he related to his master as he walked alongside the deer Voldemort possessed, a surreal scene if there ever was one.

"So…Pettigrew's usefulness has definitively come to an end…" Voldemort mused. "I thought as much. Rather ruthless of you to leave him to the Kiss, but given that he never tried to seek me out…" Voldemort sneered. "Cowardly little rat. The only ones I can even trust are those in Azkaban, and perhaps Severus Snape, at a stretch. He was a spy for us for some time, having to lead a double life. I can excuse him not seeking me out, lest Dumbledore get suspicious. He did oppose me during that whole search for the Philosopher's Stone, but I don't think he knew what he was doing. He probably thought Quirrell my minion, not my vessel. Oh, he will be punished, but as long as he continues to play his role, I have use for him."

"There's more, my lord. I don't know how useful this is, but Hogwarts is going to host a revival of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. My father was helping organise it with that imbecile Bagman."

"Ludo Bagman? That punch-drunk Bludger-addled idiot?" Voldemort laughed. "I believe there is a Muggle saying appropriate here: he couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery."

Barty shrugged. "Now that he's dead, someone else would be helping organise it. Probably one of my father's underlings, or one of Bagman's."

"Hmm. You sought to curry favour with Lord Voldemort by giving him information. I thank you for it, Barty, but your loyalty needs to be shown in more coin than this. Are you mine, now and always?"

Barty rolled up his sleeve, showing the faded Dark Mark. "By this Mark, yes."

"Will you do anything I ask for?"

"To the death, and to the pain."

"Will you betray me?"

"Never." Two syllables, delivered with an emphatic snarl.

"Then come, Barty. I believe we have a lot of work to do, and precious little time for it…"

* * *

Hercule withdrew his head from the pensieve basin. He had just seen a memory from a rather unpleasant fellow by the name of Morfin Gaunt. After he recovered, he said, "You said you started collecting these after the Chamber of Secrets fiasco?"

Dumbledore nodded, as he moved back around to his desk, plucking a lemon sherbet from his bowl as he did so. "That was the final clue I had, that Voldemort had made a horcrux, perhaps several. And I thought, given that he may have made them relatively early in his life, to start tracking them down. Hence this. I only got this memory from Gaunt only recently, since Sirius was exonerated. It gave me enough clout to ask that I be able to talk to Gaunt. I managed to determine that his memory had been altered. And this, as you saw, was the results."

"So, we know where he came from," Delacour said. "A distasteful, incestuous little family priding themselves on the so-called purity of their blood. That poor woman…" He looked up at Dumbledore. "We need a Parselmouth, though, to translate a lot of that hissing."

"I have few that I can trust. Indeed, the only one I can truly trust to do so…I am not ready to entrust with that information yet. But even so, we see that Merope Gaunt, who was indeed a most unfortunate woman, so desperate to leave her family, and so infatuated with that Muggle, that she used Amortentia on him. That did not end well, to say the least."

"That ring, though," Hercule mused. "Was it just me, or was that the symbol of the Deathly Hallows engraved on it?"

"The Gaunt Family Ring? I believe so. I'd remark on your powers of perception, but we don't have the time. I have a further memory from a House Elf of the late Hepzibah Smith that provides a disturbing slant on matters. The upshot is that Voldemort, when he still went by Tom Riddle, was interested in the relics of the Founders. Perhaps some became horcruxes."

"That ring can't be overlooked either. If it is a significant artifact, not to mention an heirloom of the family…" Hercule shook his head. "Useless to speculate, until we have proof of some kind or another. Using the Diary as a horcrux is interesting, given that it was a personal item, rather than one filled with glory and history. If your theory about the relics becoming horcruxes is correct, then perhaps the Diary was one of his first, an experiment in creating them, or in creating many. You are that certain he has created multiple horcruxes?"

"I know him, Hercule. He would go as far along a path to immortality as he would dare."

"And the Diary was in the possession of Malfoy, you said. Perhaps, if there are others, then they are in the possession of other Death Eaters, or else in secure places. Hidden places." Hercule grimaced as he thought about it. "Still, to willingly split his soul in half is madness enough. To do so with what remains repeatedly…it beggars belief. I know he would find the people he murdered acceptable sacrifices for his own immortality, but this…"

"Indeed." That was all Dumbledore would say.

Hercule frowned for a moment, before he mused, "I think we have more people we can ask about Riddle. Perhaps one of them knew something."

"Who do you have in mind?" Dumbledore asked.

"Things Riddle himself may have overlooked," Hercule said. "Three sets of residents in Hogwarts in particular: the House Elves, the ghosts, and the portraits. They may have heard something. House Elves in particular are beneath notice, and they may know many of the hiding spots within these walls."

Dumbledore smiled after a brief moment of thought, the sort of smile that accompanied a revelation. "Hercule, even I have overlooked them. True, I like to think that I do not treat the House Elves with the same apathy or contempt as many, and try to treat them with kindness, but while I believed Hepzibah Smith's House Elf was a witness, I didn't think about the ones here. Admittedly, there will be few left alive who were around when Tom was. But the ghosts are another matter. Myrtle was one of his contemporaries, and the House Ghosts may also know something."

"Do any of them know of the connection between Riddle and Voldemort?"

"I honestly don't know. The Bloody Baron might, as Harry reported that the Diary form of Riddle claimed that he went about by his pseudonym even then, albeit amongst his closest friends. Still, good places to start…"

* * *

As he followed his formerly astray minion, Voldemort reflected on his life and times. Albania had become almost like a second home to him. It was here that he came when he managed to inveigle the location of the hiding place of Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem from her daughter, the Grey Lady. It was here that his soul fled to after Potter, somehow, managed to defeat him the first time. It was here that that fool Quirrell had come, seeking him out to either capture him, or learn from him. And it was here that Voldemort had come back to, after yet another humiliating defeat.

It was a hollow shell of an existence, Voldemort reflected. To be a parasite, riding on the body of another living thing. He considered doing so to Barty, but he had proven his loyalty for the moment, and while he would still be punished for his renunciation, his punishment would be an infinitesimal speck of agony, compared to what he intended to do for the Death Eaters who had renounced him publicly, and hadn't done what Barty had done. Their best excuse would probably be that they intended to be a fifth column for when he returned: no doubt Lucius would make that excuse. And to be fair, Lucius was well placed, having the Minister of Magic by the balls, financially speaking. Not that it was that much of an excuse.

No, it was about time Voldemort got a new body. There were means other than the Philosopher's Stone, it was just the best way to get a new body and immortality at the same time. The Elixir of Life was an insurance policy, added protection alongside the horcruxes. A small homunculus could be created with the right ingredients, and would be a temporary house for his soul. But that method was only a short-term solution. He needed a new body, a magnificent body that befitted his station as the soon-to-be ruler of the world.

What Barty had told him about the Tri-Wizard Tournament struck a chord in him. In making a comeback, he needed to make a grand gesture. And if it was being held at Hogwarts, then perhaps he could find a way to take revenge on Harry Potter in the process.

The seeds of a plan began to come together in Voldemort's twisted mind. A plan that would ensure his supremacy, and destroy the insect who had become such a nuisance to his goals. He would demoralise the Wizarding World, rob it of its would-be saviour, and regain corporeal form in a single stroke.

He laughed, inwardly. Soon, Harry Potter's death would be assured. And his dominance of the world assured…

 **CHAPTER 16 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Not much to say here. Just a neat little chapter with Barty meeting his master, with a bit more of Hercule and Dumbledore sandwiched between. Next chapter will either be a timeskip to the Quidditch World Cup, or Hercule tracking down the Diadem.**

 **Review-answering time! Regarding my accuracy (or lack thereof) in mobile phone nomenclature: well, I'm leaving it as is. 'Cell phone' was a term I was a little more familiar with in Australia than mobile when the first cheap mobiles came out. Of course, that name has fallen out of use. Anyway, view it as Vernon calling them cell phones after the American term, and Harry hearing Vernon refer to them as such.**

 **Stormbow** **: This was one of the things I wanted to avoid. You're right, I've read a few such fics where Fleur and Harry's relationship alienates Ron and Hermione. I tried to do it more realistically, or at least closer to canon. Ron is jealous and envious, sure, but he's not venturing into bashable territory. And I would think that Hermione would be happy for Harry. She doesn't think highly of Fleur in canon, admittedly, but in this story, she's gotten a far better initial impression, partly thanks to Harry and partly thanks to the 'conference call', so to speak.**

 **DarowdrynofArcadia** **: Thank you. While I do occasionally like reading more sudden romances, I cannot justify that to myself. I hold the concept of 'love at first sight' in contempt. That's infatuation, even lust, not love. Hence the slower burn of this story's romance. And I also did want to give Fleur some depth. I did take cues from other fanfics, but also wanted to look at her character myself and see what I could add to it.**

 **potterfanforever** **: An intriguing idea. Time will only tell if I use it.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: Yes, I intend for Marie and Audrey to come to Hogwarts.**

 **Mr. Johnsen** **: At the very least, I will mention it in passing, though I am sure Lupin will be the one who takes the initiative in teaching him the Patronus.**

 **Slytherin66** **: My thoughts for Fleur was that she has a small circle of 'true' friends, those who are loyal to her for being her. Marie and Audrey are her best friends, but she has maybe a few more. However, Ron and Hermione will be staying, and while Ron will still have his envious hissy fit in the fourth year, it will be resolved quicker, and thus, the damage repaired sooner.**

 **Matt** **: Yes, I did know. I actually mentioned this obliquely in my chapter notes while answering Slytherin66's review:** ** _I was inspired by a similar chapter from The Accidental Animagus by White Squirrel. In that fanfic, Barty Junior is characterised rather like an evil Tenth Doctor, complete with catchphrases (seriously, he says "Allons-y!")._** ** _Then again, considering who plays him in the film_** ** _…_** **I didn't state it out loud, but obviously I knew. Please pay attention.**

 **No numbered annotations for this chapter.**


	18. Chapter 17: The Ghost and the Diadem

**CHAPTER 17:**

 **THE GHOST AND THE DIADEM**

When he was still in the French Aurors, it was said that Hercule Delacour could charm any woman, if he wanted to. It wasn't his appearance, but rather, his manner and charm. He wondered, then, if that was how he managed to get some vital information from the Grey Lady, or whether he had just asked the right questions in the right manner.

Interviewing the other ghosts brought up small details. The Bloody Baron was somewhat recalcitrant, but he said he didn't know Riddle that well. The House Ghost of Slytherin did admit that he noticed that there was something about the boy that was troubling, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Nearly-Headless Nick was similarly unable to furnish much information. Neither could the Fat Friar, though he hinted at the Grey Lady knowing something, and asked that Hercule be gentle in interviewing her.

Moaning Myrtle, aka Myrtle Warren, was probably a bit more knowledgeable than the other ghosts about Tom Riddle, having been at school when he was around, as well as his victim during the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets. True, she meandered in her speaking to irrelevancies (either moaning about the fact she was dead, or swooning over Harry and his bravery for killing the Basilisk), but Hercule knew how to put her back on track, and she seemed unnaturally and ghoulishly enthusiastic to talk about her demise at the eyes of the Basilisk. But her knowledge about Riddle merely confirmed some things about his psychology that Hercule already suspected. Professor Binns was worse than useless, calling Hercule 'Harold' and not understanding the question. Senility, it seemed, was not just restricted to flesh and blood, though he wondered whether Binns just didn't like questions, just lecturing.

Eventually, the Grey Lady was asked (by the Fat Friar on Hercule's behalf) to meet Hercule in the room he commandeered as an office, and she entered, sitting down primly. She was very beautiful, Hercule reflected, but very lugubrious. " _Bonsoir_ , my lady," Hercule said. "Please forgive my taking up your valuable time."

"You jest, of course," the Grey Lady said, apparently unsure whether to be offended or accepting his politeness. "I have little else but time."

"My apologies," Hercule said. "Did your friends tell you what I am trying to do?"

"My fellow ghosts are inveterate gossips, Mr Delacour. Gossiping is one of the few pastimes one can indulge in when one is but an insubstantial spectre. I am told that you are trying to find out more about Tom Marvolo Riddle, to understand his mind. That is a dangerous mind, considering how canker-ridden and perfidious it became."

" _Oui_ , but understanding the mind of a criminal is a key part to a good investigation," Hercule said. "We are tracking down things that he left his taint on. Perhaps there may be one even hidden in Hogwarts. And the Fat Friar did indicate that you may know something."

What followed was a somewhat difficult questioning, though Hercule would soon learn the reason why. The Grey Lady, who turned out to be none other than Helena Ravenclaw, was ashamed at what she had divulged to Riddle. However, gently, he managed to get a breakthrough. He learned that Riddle, through flattery and hollow sympathy, managed to learn the location of the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, a magical artifact that could enhance the intelligence of the wearer. Helena had apparently stolen it, and fled to Albania, envious of her mother's intelligence and (dubious, in Hercule's opinion, given that Rowena Ravenclaw alienated her daughter) wisdom. There, she was murdered by her would-be paramour, the Bloody Baron, who had been infatuated with her, when she refused to return with him.

Dumbledore had mentioned that Quirrell had, in all likelihood, encountered Voldemort's wraith in Albania. So perhaps there was a link. Dumbledore had shown Hercule another memory, one from the House Elf of Hepzibah Smith, that suggested Voldemort coveted her possessions of the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, and the Locket of Salazar Slytherin.

"If you are done dredging up painful memories that were best left buried," Helena Ravenclaw remarked archly, "may I be dismissed?"

"Not yet, please. Riddle may have tainted your mother's diadem with foul magic, along with other artifacts. Can you think of any place he may have hidden any of them in this castle, Mademoiselle Ravenclaw?"

He had asked this question of the other ghosts, a few of whom alluded to something called 'the Room of Requirement', or the 'Come and Go' room. However, Helena, upon being asked, smiled. "Indeed, I do. The Room of Requirement. I am perhaps the only ghost who knows how to enter it."

"Then, Mademoiselle, I will fetch Professor Dumbledore, and then, I would only be too glad to follow you to this place."

* * *

Soon, the headmaster, the detective, and the ghost were on the seventh floor, in the left-hand corridor. Helena Ravenclaw indicated a tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy trying to teach trolls ballet. "You have to walk back and forth, thinking very clearly about what you need at least thrice," the ghost woman said. "The door should then appear."

Dumbledore frowned. "I remember this. I once was here, and ended up coming across a room full of chamber pots."

"Chamber pots?" Hercule asked.

"I had something of a need for them," Dumbledore admitted coyly. "It was a long night on patrol, and the need was dire."

Hercule shrugged, before looking at where the door should be. Then, he began pacing. _I need to find a horcrux. I need to find a horcrux. I need to find a horcrux_.

For a moment, he thought nothing would happen. But then, a door appeared in the wall opposite the tapestry. Dumbledore looked at Hercule. "Then you were right, Hercule. There is one here."

* * *

The odd trio entered the Room of Requirement, Helena Ravenclaw looking around. "I haven't been in here for centuries," she murmured. "Not since I was alive, anyway. It changes its appearance and structure according to requirements, though."

Hercule had to admit, the room was slightly underwhelming. It was an open space for the most part, but with a battered cupboard where, perched on top, was the bust of a warlock wearing a wig…and a discoloured diadem. THE Diadem.

Helena recognised it. "That's it. And I can sense the foul magic on it."

Dumbledore cast a charm, and seemed grimly satisfied with the results. "Yes, this is what we seek." He then opened the cupboard, and smiled. "Dragonhide gloves…" he said, extracting the items in question. "Good." He donned them, and then waved his wand at the bust, carefully raising it into the air, and then bringing it to the ground. He picked up the Diadem, before moving further away from the cupboard. "Stand back, you two. I am about to do something appallingly dangerous. And if things go wrong, I want you both to flee immediately. Incidentally, Helena, I must apologise in advance. In order to destroy the enchantments on the Diadem, I must destroy the Diadem itself."

Helena Ravenclaw gathered herself, and nodded reluctantly. "Do it if you must. It brought me no happiness in life or in death. In any case, I suspect what it truly is. Riddle is a truly vile creature to consider such a thing."

Hercule backed away, the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw gliding back as well, as Dumbledore steeled himself, and then, jabbing his wand at the Diadem, he roared, "FIENDFYRE!"

The blast of unholy fire that emitted from Dumbledore's wand was something Hercule had only seen on rare occasion, and he was grateful for it. One of the most powerful fire spells out there, if not THE most powerful, Fiendfyre created a powerful, diabolical blaze that was virtually alive. And like many powerful living things, it was not easily controlled. Hercule still had nightmares of a raid on a dark wizard's house that ended with the man desperately casting Fiendfyre, creating a ravenous inferno that took the life not only of the wizard using it, but also two of his fellow Aurors.

But even if he rarely used such a destructive and nearly intractable spell, it was clear that, though it took him a great effort to do so, Dumbledore was one of the few who were capable of controlling it. The fire was confined to the area immediately surrounding the Diadem, becoming a massive tornado of hellfire that writhed and snarled and roared. It fought against Dumbledore's control. Deep within the inferno, Hercule fancied he could hear a scream of agony.

Then, Dumbledore managed to wrestle the thing down, his will, projected through the wand he wielded, managing to force the inferno down, and down, and down, until finally, it snuffed out of existence. By the end of it, he was breathing heavily, sweat pouring down his face. A faint trickle of blood began to slide from his nose, and began to stain part of his beard. After a minute, however, he managed to recover. He walked over to the blackened, twisted remains of the Diadem, and recast the charm he used earlier. "Two down," he murmured, referring to the Diary as well as the Diadem. "But Merlin knows how many to go…"

* * *

In Dumbledore's office afterwards, Helena Ravenclaw peered sadly at the mangled and burnt remains of the Diadem. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure," she murmured quietly. "My mother always said that. And yet, she treasured this damnable thing far more than she did me. I'm glad it's gone."

"Helena," Dumbledore said quietly, "you said that you knew what this was. What do you think it is?"

"A horcrux. First known to be created by Herpo the Foul, and an ambition of many a dark wizard with power, madness, and thanatophobia," Helena said. "There was more on their creation…and their destruction, in my time at Hogwarts than there is now. I am surprised that Riddle found out about that. You indicated that he had created more than two. To my knowledge, no wizard has ever attempted more than two: one as a main horcrux, and the other as a spare. Even my would-be betrothed made it a habit to seek out any wizard attempting to create them, and destroying them. But time eats away even at knowledge, and books on dark magic have been discarded in order to prevent fools from creating their own, even if said books also have a variety of rituals that can remove them."

"Rituals? But why didn't you tell us?" Dumbledore asked. "We could have removed the horcrux without harming the Diadem!"

"The Diadem holds too many painful memories and regrets for me. It was cathartic to see it destroyed by fire. In any case, I believe that perhaps the only place that would have knowledge of such rituals is Gringotts."

"Gringotts?" Hercule asked. "Why would the goblins know of such rituals?"

"They accumulate knowledge for the same reason they accumulate money, to further their own interests and to provide services for a fee. They did so long before Gringotts was ever established," Helena said. "In addition, Gringotts is frequently involved in archaeological expeditions to unearth tombs with cursed items. Horcruxes are admittedly rare, but they know of them, and how to remove them."

"How do you know of such things?" Hercule asked.

"You'd be surprised at the guests who come to one of Sir Nicholas' Deathday parties," Helena said with a soft smile. "There was a rather handsome Gringotts cursebreaker who died after helping Howard Carter and Lord Carnarvon at the tomb of Tutankhamun. Not from a curse, though. He died from food poisoning not long afterwards. He said it was somewhat embarrassing to find his body lying in a large pool of his own excrement. I found it amusing, in a somewhat nauseating way. Thankfully, that didn't carry over to his ghost body."

Dumbledore seemed pensive as Helena related this, and seemed to come to a decision, one not taken lightly. "Helena…I need to ask you a question. The answer is very important. Do you know whether Gringotts has any such rituals…that can remove a horcrux from a living being, without killing them?"

Helena Ravenclaw frowned. "I believe he mentioned them, but the goblins have had no such recourse to use them. The ritual is risky. If not done properly, the subject will die."

"But they do exist?"

"Indeed, though if you know of a person who has become one, I pity their fate. Is that all, Headmaster?"

"Indeed, unless Hercule has anything to say."

"Not at all. You have been most helpful, Mademoiselle Ravenclaw. Perhaps you should go into the consulting detective business. You certainly have the mind for that, and it is wasted."

"I shall consider that, Mr Delacour," Helena said, the thought clearly intriguing to her.

"Oh, and Helena?" Dumbledore said, stopping the ghost as she made to leave. "Please keep the horcrux secret. The less people that know about it…"

"…The less potential it has for reaching Riddle's ears," Helena said, nodding. "I understand. I _listen_ to gossip, Headmaster. I rarely propagate it." She then left the office, gliding through the wall.

Hercule turned his attention to Dumbledore. "You know of someone who is a living horcrux?" he whispered in horror, horror he had restrained until Helena Ravenclaw had left.

"It is something I have suspected for the longest time…and for a time, I believed that in order for Voldemort to die, he too would have to die, something I have worked for several years trying to prevent, to find some other way. Now, through happenstance, I may just have a chance to save that person…and in the process, save my own soul for potentially condemning him to death."

"Who is it?" Hercule asked quietly, though he fancied he knew the answer, or at least suspected it. No evidence, no information…just a hunch. A horrible, horrible hunch that was confirmed when Dumbledore spoke the name.

"Harry Potter."

 **CHAPTER 17 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, that's a turn-up for the books.**

 **Actually, this chapter was going to revolve around the Diadem being found, and its destruction. But in the process, I actually had a flash of inspiration, and so had Helena Ravenclaw give Dumbledore information he so badly needed.**

 **And yes, I AM going with the fanon cliché of the goblins at Gringotts having rituals to remove horcruxes. Despite it being ridiculously overused in fanfic, it seems to have at least a not-illogical premise, what with cursebreakers potentially encountering them. But it also seems to be most frequently encountered (by me, at least) in fics where there's a lot of Dumbledore-bashing at the very least. I hope that here, where Dumbledore is a deeply flawed but ultimately well-meaning man, makes an exception.**

 **When I write the next chapter, it will revolve around said ritual…and have more Harry and Fleur.**

 **Review-answering time!** **Slytherin66** **: To be fair to Merope, her genes (inbreeding does do a lot of damage to the mind) and her home life twisted her into that way, and I certainly have far more sympathy for her than the rest of her family, especially her son. And Ron and Hermione will still be part of the story, despite your objections to them. Thanks for the praise for the insight for Tom/Voldemort.**

 **magitech** **: I like to portray Snape on both sides. In some stories (like my Cetra Heritage Saga), I portray him as gradually becoming a better man and a more decent one at that. In stories like this one, he's still a dingus. He will help, but grudgingly. But one thing people seem to mistake is that he is on one side or another. I wholeheartedly believe that the only side Snape has is his own in canon. He is devoted to Lily, true, and he can perform acts of great nobility, and there is, deep within, a good man. But said good man is almost completely submerged in a bitter sea of darkness, and he is ultimately out for himself, and to protect Lily's legacy.**

 **ObsessedWithHPFanfic** **: I remembered reading in at least one fanfic (I think it was** ** _The Accidental Animagus_** **by White Squirrel) where the reasoning was set out: that Harry had to be on edge and in peril for the entire year or something, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament fit the bill. I personally think (as opposed to that fanfic) that Voldemort basically set it out as thus: if Harry died during the Tournament, then he was dead, and everything was all good. But if he survived, and Voldemort got the blood, then it meant he could be sent back as a grand finale, a capstone to Voldemort's greatness, blah blah blah.**

 **Witchshift** **: Keep in mind that Voldemort is a raging hypocrite. I wouldn't be surprised if Barty Junior was too.**

 **Northgirl** **: Thanks for your praise. However, I am keeping 'Jeanne' as the name of Fleur's owl, despite it being old-fashioned. That being said, learning that she's used as an emblem of a fascist party? Holy shit, that's scary. And it's another sad reminder of symbols of good being perverted to less salubrious causes…**

 **No numbered annotations again.**


	19. Chapter 18: Death

**CHAPTER 18:**

 **DEATH**

As he stripped off his clothing in the antechamber, Harry wondered whether this was what a condemned man felt like. He had even had a nice dinner. Hercule had put it rather more bluntly than Dumbledore, who had tried to sugarcoat it and reassure Harry: there was a significant risk that he might die during the procedure. Indeed, the ritual, he was told, would 'kill' Harry temporarily, enough so that the fragment of Voldemort's soul within his scar would be expelled. Some remnants may remain: the goblins, upon learning that Harry was a Parselmouth, believed that the ability may just remain, if Harry was lucky (or unlucky).

They had decided to forgo Harry undergoing this ritual until after he had completed his exams for the year. He was undergoing the ritual on a Friday evening, so that he could recover over the weekend. Hermione, Ron, and Sirius had accompanied him there, for moral support, though the goblins were not going to let them view the ritual itself. One reason was a consideration of privacy (Harry would have to undergo the ritual naked), but another was that the goblins guarded their secrets fiercely and ruthlessly.

Dumbledore funded the cost of the ritual. He had explained, rather remorsefully to Harry, that he had been trying to find a way to remove the soul fragment without killing Harry, and had suspected ever since Harry survived that fateful night. He hinted, but did not state outright, that the Diary had been something similar. He would explain further once the fragment was removed, and he'd undergone some further training. Harry was left angry with Dumbledore once more, albeit tempered by Dumbledore's willingness to pay for the ritual, and his apparently sincere confession that he wanted to find a solution like this.

A surprise that Hercule had arranged was for Fleur to come over by Portkey once she was finished at Beauxbatons. Ron, as predicted, gaped at Fleur while in the presence of her allure, though thankfully, a nudge from Hermione managed to rouse him from his stupor, and he was able to talk to her, though he gained something of a stammer, and a tendency to look her in the chest, and not the eyes. Hermione, meanwhile, held a brief conversation with the part-Veela girl in French that ended with them laughing. Sirius was grinning his head off, proud of his godson scoring a part-Veela girlfriend.

Then, they all left the room, save for Harry and Fleur. The French girl looked pensive, uncertain, where normally she was the picture of assuredness. " _Papa_ told me that this ritual is dangerous. Possibly even lethal."

"I know. But if it's the best way of getting this…thing out of my head, I'll take it. Better a chance at survival than no chance. Besides, it's not like it's the first time I've risked my life."

"I know. _Papa_ told me about your confrontation with a Basilisk last year. Dumbledore told him that you got bitten by it, and only Dumbledore's phoenix saved your life," Fleur said.

Harry nodded, and rolled up his sleeve. On his upper arm was a faint but noticeable crater-like scar. "I seem to be building up a collection," he remarked wryly.

Fleur giggled, tracing the circumference of the scar lightly with a delicate finger. "Still, to have faced down a Basilisk and survived…" Her face became solemn. "You are a very lucky boy. And your legend will continue to grow. Killed a Basilisk at the age of twelve…helped exonerate your godfather at the age of thirteen…and of course, vanquished Voldemort at the age of one. Harry… _mon ami_ …please do not let this night be the final chapter of your legend. Fight with all your heart, and all of your soul. Do it for your friends, your family." She winced. "Well, by family, I mean your godfather."

Harry chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, the Dursleys would probably have a party," he muttered. "With a cake."

Fleur murmured a French word that was probably an insult. Then, she did something Harry didn't expect. She kissed him, on the forehead. For a few seconds, he savoured the feeling of her lips on his forehead. Then, she pulled back. "A mark of luck, _mon ami_. I will leave you now, but I beseech you, _do not die_. Or I will find a way to torment your spirit." Then, she left.

Shortly afterwards, the goblins came in, and told him to strip before entering the chamber. They also explained that they would be putting him in a Body-Bind, as well as using a Confundus charm. The former was to make sure he didn't move during the ritual. The latter was needed partly to assure that the mind was in the right state for the extraction, and partly because the goblins kept their secrets fiercely guarded. Harry wasn't happy, but he acceded.

Once he had done so, and entered the chamber, he was told to lie down on a slab. Self-conscious of his exposed state, he nonetheless did so. They cast the Body-Bind and Confundus spells in quick succession, so he spent the next couple of minutes in something of a fog. He could vaguely hear guttural, eldritch chants, and he could feel the magic swirling about him, but that was it.

At least until the pain started.

It as if someone jabbed a knife right into his skull, a knife coated in Basilisk venom. Worse than those pains he had felt around Quirrell. He couldn't move, couldn't even _scream_ as the pain consumed him. Red mist ate at the corners of his vision, followed by clouds of absolute darkness.

And as the darkness clouded his vision, the last thing Harry Potter felt was his heart stop beating…

* * *

When his vision cleared, he saw not the ceiling of the ritual chamber. Instead, it was vaguely familiar, but bright, and seemingly filled with mist. He was still naked. He got to his feet, shakily, and saw the surrounding area seem to resolve from out of the mist. It was like King's Cross Station, only eerily empty. Serene. Luminescent.

He suddenly heard a noise, a quiet, wet thumping, and the faintest, pained mewling. Suddenly self-conscious, he wished he had some clothes. And some appeared nearby, which he hastily donned, before creeping forward to a bench, where the noises seemed to be coming from. He peeked underneath it, and saw what looked like a warped, flayed infant, its skin raw and weeping.

"Sad and pathetic, isn't it?"

Harry whirled at the sound of the voice, to find a beautiful young woman with red hair and green eyes, dressed in simple clothes. It took him a moment for him to recognise the face, from the photos Hagrid had given him. "Mother?"

"Actually, no. She's kindly lent me her appearance for the time being," the woman said apologetically. "I could go for the Neil Gaiman look. You know, like he portrayed me in _The Sandman_. Oh, wait, you're probably not into comics like that." The woman ran a hand through her hair pensively. "Damn, this got awkward swiftly. I didn't even have that much trouble with the Flamels when they came through recently."

"The Flamels? What are you talking about? Who are you?"

"Well, you'll probably find it hard to believe, but I'm Death. You know, the Grim Reaper. Yes, I know, I'm lacking the whole walking skeleton with a scythe thing. Seriously, humans have some pretty morbid preconceptions, it's depressing. I prefer to look comforting. Helps ease the whole post-mortem transition phase. Your parents wanted to come and say hello, but, well, I thought it better that you meet them once everything's set in stone. Otherwise, you'd probably miss them more."

Harry gaped, struggling to take this in. Then, he asked, "Well, where are we? Am I dead?"

"To answer your questions in reverse, you're only mostly dead. And you're in limbo. The great transit hub in the sky. Think of this place as the interface with your brain as you die, and the world of the dead. That's why it looks like King's Cross, because the image comes from your mind and memories. You should feel honoured, frankly. Few people visit here, and then go back to the world of the living. Most pass through here on their way to the other side. But you, Harry, have a chance to leave without passing through."

"You mean…I can live?"

"Survive. You must have the will. This movie doesn't always end the way we want all the time(1)," Death said, before flinching. "Sorry, things like that drift into my head all the time. But yes. But you need to make the choice to live. You have to fight for your life, even when you leave this place."

"…And that thing? Is that…Voldemort?"

"Part of him. Thanks to you and the old goat who fancies himself your mentor, I got two parts of him recently, and this makes three. It's what's called a horcrux, and it is a pain in the alimentary canal to deal with. I'm really annoyed with him, actually. Voldemort, I mean. Tommy Boy just made his seventh horcrux. He thinks it's his sixth, and that he still has all of them. What makes it even more galling, besides that hideous ritual used to make a horcrux, is that he tainted an artifact of my own creation with one of them."

"An artifact of your own creation?"

Death sighed. "That's right. You don't know about the Hallows. There's a fairy tale out there about how a trio of brothers made a bridge across a river. Now, supposedly, because I was thwarted, I gave them gifts with a highly ironic theme, though the youngest brother was the sensible one. Actually, what happened was, I got sick and tired of people getting drowned at that river, and I happened to be there when they made their bridge. I actually rewarded them, but the first two brothers were idiots. The first one wanted a wand that can never be beaten. Idiot soon got his throat slit in his sleep by someone who wanted the same thing. The second one was desperate to see his love again, and so demanded a stone that could summon the spirits of the dead. He wanted his dead fiancée back, you see, but that didn't end well. Poor bastard hung himself out of despair. But the youngest brother asked for a cloak that would allow him to hide from me. I humoured him, and it turned out he was the most sensible. He lived a pretty full life before I came to collect him, and he came willingly by that point."

"A wand, a stone, and a cloak?"

"Yep. Of course, the fools believe the one who believes the possessor of all three would become the Master of Death, and thus invincible and/or immortal." She rolled her eyes. "Morons. I bow to nobody, unless I'm feeling polite. The stone was the thing I mentioned. Tommy Boy turned a ring with it into a horcrux. And the cloak? Well, I must say you've been using it for quite a bit of entertaining mischief. Kudos."

Harry's eyes widened. "My Invisibility Cloak? That was _your_ cloak?"

"I had quite a few like it back home, it wasn't like I'd miss one. Ask the old goat…Dumbledore, I mean, about the Tale of the Three Brothers. Oh, and tell him that the remaining ones are the Hufflepuff Cup, the Slytherin Locket, a snake familiar he has with him, and the Gaunt Family Ring I spoke of. The Cup's in the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange. The Locket's in your godfather's ancestral home. Ask him to ask his old house elf. And the Ring's back at the Gaunt's home in Little Hangleton. I'm telling you this because I want to get this bastard dealt with as soon as possible. Horcruxes are troublesome, and the people who create them are invariably bastards of the highest order. Of course, I'm assuming you want to go back. You can move on, meet your parents. I won't stop you."

"But…my friends…Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fleur…Sirius, Lupin, Mr Delacour, Professor McGonagall…and Dumbledore." He blinked. "Why do you keep calling him the old goat?"

"He thinks he knows what's best for everyone. Though to be fair to him, he's trying his best to do good. Dumbledore is wise and powerful, but he's also a bit too fond of the big picture, or at least how he sees it. He needs people like you, and Hercule Delacour, and Sirius Black, to keep him on the straight and narrow. People who won't follow him blindly. People who question him within reason, make him see other perspectives. But also people who can keep him out of his self-loathing. People who can support him when things go wrong. He may be your teacher and mentor, but the whole 'kindly ear' thing can work both ways. Anyway, you've made your decision? You're going back?"

Harry nodded. There was an allure to this place, true, but he didn't want to go. Not when his life hadn't truly begun. Not when he had a job to finish. Not when he had friends waiting for him.

"It'll be hard. For the first few seconds, you'll have to _fight_ to come back to life. That's the thing about the ritual the goblins used: the person has to have an extraordinary will to live. Then again, one has to have such a will to resist being taken over by a horcrux latched onto their soul…or the protection of a certain ritual like your mother used. But I know you can do it. And now that the horcrux is gone, it's not feeding off your magic anymore. So it'll be a little easier to do magic. You're not going to become Merlin's reincarnation or anything, but that damned thing held you back." Death knelt, and fished underneath the seat, and plucked out Voldemort's soul fragment, holding it up roughly by the arm. "You don't want to see what happens next," she said. "It's unpleasant. Let's just say you'll be seeing that if you ever do encounter Dementors again. See you later, Harry. Hopefully, much later."

She pointed at a door that seemed to open up, with a big exit sign above it. Light streamed from it. Without hesitation, he walked through it…

* * *

Death was right. It was hard. It was like wading through treacle, climbing up the sheerest cliff, trying to breathe in the vacuum of space.

But then again, dying was easy. It was the succumbing of the body to the forces of entropy, one of the inexorable forces of the universe. Living, fighting against entropy, was hard, a continual effort.

His heart beat once. To Harry, it felt reluctant, sluggish, tired.

He forced it to beat again. And again.

Then, finally, it became easier. His lungs sucked down air in a great gasp. His eyes snapped open, only to snap shut as the light seared his retinas.

Harry Potter had been clinically dead for ten seconds. It had felt far longer for the boy, but matters of the soul were frequently murky and mysterious.

* * *

Once the goblins had checked him over, Harry was dressed, and then sent to a confidential ward at St Mungo's for observation for the weekend. But before he left, he was embraced by first Hermione, then Sirius, and Fleur in short order. Dumbledore was weeping, his tears being those of joy and relief. Hercule was smiling, and Ron was just looking relieved that his friend had survived.

Harry gave them all a weak smile. Death, as an experience, was highly overrated. Then again, as a person, well, she was at least interesting.

And to use the old cliché, today was the first day of the rest of his life…

 **CHAPTER 18 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **Well, that just happened. The horcrux is removed, and Harry gets a kiss from Fleur. Okay, just a peck on the forehead, but it's the first true step down the shipping lane. So too was her beginning to call him 'mon ami'. Fleur was friendly to Harry before, true, but calling him that was meant to show her ever deepening feelings for him. She was worried about him about to participate in a potentially lethal ritual.**

 **The meeting between Harry and Death may seem a bit cheesy and a bit too much of an arsepull. Yes, she's a** ** _deus ex machina_** **, but frankly, I don't want the horcruxes lingering on. Plus, I was inspired by a story called** ** _The Boy-Who-Lived to Meet Death_** **by fullmoon71383. It's a crossover where instead of meeting Dumbledore in the Limbo King's Cross towards the end of** ** _The Deathly Hallows_** **, Harry meets Death (the version from** ** _The Sandman_** **). It's rather nice and sweet. I like Neil Gaiman's Death. My version of Death is basically a combination of Death of the Endless and the Tenth Doctor from** ** _Doctor Who_** **. Probably jumped the shark with it, though.**

 **Now, I have bad news and good news. The bad news is, I've decided to end this fic when the events of Year 3 draw to a close. It seems like a natural point to finish the fic, and it will go on for maybe one or two chapters more after this one. In addition, I want to have more completed fics to my name (I have five, three of which are instalments in the Cetra Heritage Saga, and two are from the Ballad of Ricky and Angel). And it's gotten over 150K views. That's ridiculous.**

 **The good news is, I do intend to keep continuing the story. It was always my intention to continue it into the events of** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **, and those events will be the focus of a new fic, tentatively entitled** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **. Like** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **, it is derived from a quote from a Poirot story (the 'In Spite of' prefix was a coincidence). Not only that, but it's from debatably the most famous Poirot story of all:** ** _Murder on the Orient Express_** **. The full quote is "The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances". It's very appropriate given the events of** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **, and the 'impossibility' of Harry being entered into the tournament.**

 **I will be posting the last chapter of this story simultaneously with the first chapter of** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **, so keep an eye out.**

 **Although this chapter was finished well before-hand, given the French connection in this story, I thought it appropriate to dedicate this story at the end of this chapter to the victims of the recent terror attacks in France.** ** _Je suis Paris_** **.** ** _Vive le différence!_**

 **Review-answering time!** **potterfanforever** **: One thing that I did avoid (as noted by Death, who was nudging the Fourth Wall for me) is Harry becoming super-powerful upon removal of the horcrux. His magic will get a little easier, his mind will be a little less clouded (certainly slightly less impulsive and a bit more able to learn), and while he will still need glasses (his father needed them, after all), he won't be as literally short-sighted as before. And he's still got the Parseltongue. But he's still not the strongest wizard in Britain, or indeed within the student populace of Hogwarts.**

 **mwinter1** **: Northgirl, in one of her reviews, mentioned that Joan of Arc is being used as a symbol of a French fascist organisation.**

 **jediprankster** **: Thank you! I thought it was** ** _The Accidental Animagus_** **by White Squirrel, but thanks for the correction. It's been a while since I've read** ** _A Marauder's Plan_** **, I really should do so again.**

 **.3950** **: See my response to potterfanforever above. Harry won't become Merlin incarnate, or even the most powerful student in Hogwarts. He's moved up a few notches, true, but nothing like many a fanfic I have read portray the results as.**

 **Guest** **: Harry is still a Parselmouth. Never fear.**

 **The Shadowman** **: Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to. Hopefully, there will be less of that in** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **.**

 **jgkitarel** **and** **Scififan33** **: I did think of logical premises. The one most commonly offered in fanfics, about horcruxes found in tombs by curse-breakers, is a sound premise. But I also wanted to add my own touch, hence Helena Ravenclaw's discussion. I thought that goblins would be as much hoarders and brokers of secrets as much as gold and valuables.**

 **Gunreal** **: That's a shame. Maybe** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **, when it comes out, will be more to your liking.**

 **Aedesius** **: That's how I do my fanfics. You don't like my annotations? The door's over there. I am getting sick and tired of people bitching about them. I say in my forewords that I do them.**

 **1\. A quote from the lyrics of** ** _Hometown_** **, one of the songs from** ** _Silent Hill 3_** **.**


	20. Chapter 19: Joie de Vivre

**CHAPTER 19:**

 **JOIE DE VIVRE**

Sunday afternoon, Harry was going to head back to Hogwarts. Everything checked out. There was the slightest residue from the horcrux, but the soul fragment itself had disappeared. Harry wondered what Death was doing to it, before deciding, if she claimed that it would be dredged up by the Dementors, it would have to be pretty bad.

His friends had visited him. So too had Dumbledore, Sirius, and Hercule. Lupin even managed to get some time off to see him, and Neville had taken the Floo from Hogwarts. Harry told Dumbledore (when they were alone) what Death had told him, and Dumbledore gravely agreed to investigate, though he chortled ruefully when Harry reported that Death had called him an old goat. He asked, though, that any discussion of anything called 'horcruxes' be strictly kept between Harry, Dumbledore, and Hercule: they didn't want the information getting back to Voldemort before they started destroying them. He intended to have Sirius Black learn Occlumency (it was his house that housed one of them, after all), and, in his turn, have the Animagus teach Harry. With the horcrux, and a potential mental link to Voldemort, gone, there'd normally be less need for it, but as Harry now knew about the horcruxes, and if Voldemort ever used Legilimency to look into his mind, well, they'd be in trouble.

That being said, Dumbledore did tell Harry about the Deathly Hallows and the Tale of the Three Brothers. He even admitted something even more extraordinary: he held the Elder Wand, the wand of the tale. He even let Harry examine it, which he did, before giving it back. It didn't feel like something Death would have made. Yes, it felt a little ominous, and even powerful. But he expected something far more sinister. Dumbledore then said that it had a long, bloody history, and one full of sorrow. He also said that, contrary to the popular perception, he had won its allegiance not by killing the prior owner, but by merely defeating him.

" _An enemy?_ " Harry had asked.

" _Worse_ ," Dumbledore had admitted. " _A man who was once my best friend._ " He would say no further on the subject. It was clearly painful for him.

Anyway, today was the day when he would head back to Hogwarts. When he entered the room with the Floo (he was going via a private Floo, reserved for patients who wanted some discretion in their comings and goings), he found Fleur waiting there. Even in a simple dress, she had the radiant and ethereal beauty of a deity. He could feel her allure plucking at his mind and heart. " _Bonjour, mon ami,_ " she said, drawing him into a brief but heartfelt embrace of greeting.

"Hi, Fleur." His face crinkled into a frown. "Why are you calling me ' _mon ami_ '?"

"Because we are friends, Harry. And good friends, at that. I have few of those. Calling them ' _mon ami_ ' is my way of showing that. At least, I hope we are good friends." She became pensive. "It was one of the most horrible feelings, knowing that you had to die, even if only briefly, in that ritual. Ronald and Hermione, Dumbledore and Black, I know they felt the same way. Like our own hearts were getting gradually torn apart. Knowing that your lifeless body may be carried out of that room if the ritual failed."

"I'm sorry I worried you."

"It is no problem," Fleur said. Then, an impish smile came over her face. "For a little boy, you are very strong, _n'est-ce pas?_ "

Her thick French accent had 'little' come out as 'leetle', and Harry scowled, albeit with some good humour. "Who're you calling 'leetle'?"

Fleur covered her mouth with a delicate hand, and giggled, the sound almost like the simple tinkling beauty of windchimes. "You are easy to tease, no?"

"That's rich, coming from the blonde," Harry said cheekily.

In mock outrage, Fleur said, "How _dare_ you? This is an unforgivable insult!" Feathers sprouted around her face, which became more pointed and avian. Her hair became like feathers as well. Her nails became talon-like, while wings sprouted from her shoulders. Surprisingly, she still remained attractive, in an exotic, harpy-like way(1). "Behold the Veela within me!"

"How many people are actually scared of that?" Harry asked.

"More than a few," she said, her mock outrage dying down to be replaced with a wry smile, though her transformation remained. "You are not?"

"As long as you're not flinging fireballs at me. You're actually quite nice-looking, in a strange way, even transformed."

"…Really?"

Harry nodded, and gently, tentatively, touched the feathers that had grown on her arm. "Soft," he remarked. "Can you fly when transformed?"

"If I wished."

"That'd be great. I love flying. That's one of the reasons I love Quidditch. A shame I can't fly like you, though."

Fleur chuckled, changing back to normal. Harry would later learn that all Veela and the part-Veela who could transform bought clothing that was charmed to allow for their transformations, without getting damaged. "You know, _Papa_ said the same thing to _Maman_ , not long after they first met. He wished he could fly like she could."

"So…is this goodbye? Until this Tournament comes to Hogwarts?"

"No. Monsieur Black and _Papa_ have been in correspondence. He invited us to come to the finals of the Quidditch World Cup, paying for our tickets as a token of gratitude to _Papa_ clearing his name. And _Papa_ accepted."

Harry laughed. "That's wonderful news!" He hugged Fleur. The older girl stiffened briefly in his embrace, before returning it.

"So eager to see me again, _mon ami?_ Is that Harry Potter talking, or the allure?" she murmured.

"I hope it isn't the allure. You are keeping it controlled. Right?"

" _Oui_. Do you want to know what it is like when I do not?"

Harry, for a moment, hesitated, before he nodded, stepping back. "Just…turn it down if it looks like…I lose control."

"Of course." She inhaled…and let go.

Nothing about Fleur actually changed. Nothing as crude as her partial transformation. But the force of her allure hit Harry with all the subtlety and power of a tsunami. For a moment, he was swept away by it. For a moment, a moment too long, he wanted nothing more than the divine-looking girl in front of him. More than food, drink, sleep, even life itself. It was like to merely look upon her was to be intoxicated by the most pleasurable drug in the world. He would have gladly done anything for her. Even die.

But then, part of him, the part that had fought the hardest as he came back to life, anchored itself in the tsunami's torrent. And with that part, the rest of him managed to begin resisting the allure. It still affected him, still battered and tossed him like a ship in a storm, but he could still see her as Fleur Delacour, a friend, and not some object of desire to worship.

Fleur swiftly relented. She didn't want to do this to her friend for long. And to the relief of Harry (save for a small but loud part of his mind, clamouring in disappointment), the allure returned to a manageable level. "Are you all right, _mon ami?_ "

Harry nodded, more than a little shaken. "That was…that was…well, I'm glad you keep that under control. How hard is it?"

"Not as hard as it was when I first had to learn how to control it. But it is something I still have to be aware of. Part-Veela are naturally beautiful, but the allure does not arrive until adolescence if it does at all, and unlike full Veela, we have a more difficult time controlling it. We dread the day when Gabrielle reaches that stage. But you fought. You fought hard." She cocked her head quizzically, her brows knitting in thought. "With that much willpower, you might even be able to fight off the Imperius Curse if you make an effort."

"I hope I never have to," Harry said, remembering what Hercule and Lupin had taught him about the Unforgivables. Actually, Lupin had also been helping teach him the Patronus spell, along with (at Harry's insistence) Ron, Hermione, and Neville. The Dementors may have been recalled, but Harry never wanted to have to deal with them ever again. Harry and his friends, with the exception of poor Neville, had managed to cast a weak Patronus at the very least, though both Harry and Hermione had managed to actually cast a faint but discernible corporeal Patronus. Harry's was a stag, and Hermione's was an otter.

Remus had also finally come clean about his condition, telling them that he was a werewolf. Harry had a suspicion, but Hermione, bless her, had actually figured it out during one of the DADA lessons where Snape substituted for Lupin. Neither of them cared, as long as he kept up his Wolfsbane Potion. Ron was a little more wary, but he knew Lupin was a good guy in the end. Neville never heard this revelation, and Lupin asked that they keep it that way. Werewolves were treated far too often as lepers at best, and as monsters at worst, by most of magical society.

Harry was surprised (in a good way, of course) to learn that the reason why the other Marauders were Animagi was to keep Lupin company on the nights he transformed: werewolves tended not to attack most animals.

"Nobody would want to have to have it cast on them in the first place, _mon ami_ ," Fleur said, in an assuring manner. "It was…horrible, to see you succumb, even if only briefly. It is horrible to see men succumb to the full allure. Some become drooling imbeciles. Others become animals rabid with lust and desire. Only those used to a Veela's allure are resistant, and only women, blood relations or fellow Veela are immune. You see why we are feared and hated as much as we are desired?"

Harry nodded, solemnly. "But I don't hate you. And I only fear your full allure. I don't fear Fleur Delacour."

" _Merci_ , Harry," Fleur said with a smile. The two embraced each other in a hug once more, before Fleur said, "I had better not keep you from Hogwarts any longer. I will have to use a Portkey to go back to Beauxbatons. _Au revoir_ , Harry."

"Goodbye, Fleur," Harry said, before he took the Floo powder, used it in the fireplace, and made his way back to Hogwarts…

* * *

After that, the year was fairly uneventful. In fact, there were only two more events of note. Hermione had been getting steadily more frazzled as the year went on, eventually ended up dropping a number of her subjects. Harry, who had been more preoccupied with Sirius, had not actually paid attention to Hermione's ridiculous number of subjects, or at least not thought about them until now. She later confided to Harry alone that she had been given a Time-Turner, a device that allowed her to attend all of her classes via time travel.

As nifty as it was, Harry was relieved that Hermione dropped a few of her subjects. It had been on McGonagall's advice that Hermione drop those subjects, as McGonagall had noticed Hermione's deteriorating state. Harry had noticed it too, but while he had done his best to try and support her emotionally, he kicked himself for not trying to find out why she was burning the candle at both ends, and trying to counsel her into stopping it.

The second event of note was a rather less happy one. Towards the end of the school year, rumours suddenly spread like wildfire that Lupin was a werewolf, forcing the man who had been his best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to resign. Upon meeting with Lupin later, Harry learned that it was a strong possibility that Snape had spread the rumour, out of spite. Harry felt his anger towards the snide Potions professor grow. But what could he do? Nothing. Public opinion would be against Lupin, for the simple fact that he was a werewolf, despite his morality and intelligence.

It was that event, plus knowing Hercule Delacour, that made Harry question his future. Especially now that, Voldemort intending to kill him notwithstanding, he actually had one. It was like the removal of the horcrux let him know that he had one.

Did he want to follow in his father's footsteps, along with Hercule Delacour's, and go into the Aurors? Did he want to go into politics, to make sure that people weren't persecuted for either being a werewolf (unless they had actually done something wrong), or for being Muggleborn (like Hermione), or for being part-creature (like Fleur)? Or was there some road that he couldn't see yet that he could take?

There was something he did know, even as he took the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross, even knowing he would have to spend time at the Dursleys' (but not too long). He was sure that no matter what road he took, Fleur Delacour was going to be walking alongside him down that path. It was just this feeling he had. And he was reminded of that dream he had, of the sandy beach, and of the long, lingering kiss they had.

He felt that, one day, they would be together, no matter what Voldemort or Snape or anyone else had to say on the matter. That they would be together, in spite of obstinate men.

 **HARRY, HIS FRIENDS AND FOES WILL RETURN IN…** ** _IN SPITE OF APPEARANCES_** **.**

 **CHAPTER 19 ANNOTATIONS:**

 **And there you have it: the final chapter. Sorry I rushed through the remaining events of** ** _The Prisoner of Azkaban_** **and glossed over that thing with Hermione and the Time-Turner. And if you're wondering about what happened to Buckbeak, Sirius purchased him for one of the Black estates. It comes from putting the emphasis on Fleur and Harry, as well as Hercule Delacour.**

 **Anyway, this is the final chapter of** ** _In Spite of Obstinate Men_** **. I'm, frankly, astonished at how popular it has become. Over 160K views, nearly 400 reviews, 43 communities, over 1500 alerts and 900 favourites, as of writing this. In fact, I'm amazed that this fic has been finished, as I wasn't sure if I was going to.**

 **Of course, I will be posting the first chapter of the sequel,** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **, at the same time as I post this. That story will take place during the events of** ** _The Goblet of Fire_** **, and will have Harry and Fleur's friendship challenged when Harry is forced to enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament, while Hercule, Dumbledore, and Sirius track down the remaining horcruxes. Look for it on my profile.**

 **Review-answering time! Thanks, everyone who commented positively on my portrayal of Death. I was tempted to make her like the one in** ** _The Sandman_** **, but eventually decided to do a slightly more original twist.**

 **Northgirl** **: You're welcome. I updated a number of stories in the wake of what happened in Paris, but I thought this one, given the French elements, was the best to have my own personal dedication to the victims.**

 **Stormbow** **: While there are many fics I enjoy with a lot of bashing, I have to confess that I don't like doing so. In the one story where I set out to do major bashing, Sins of the Father, I actually found it ridiculous hard and draining to do an evil Dumbledore. Even the only other story so far where I do bashing,** ** _Heather Potter and the Legacy of Alessa_** **, Dumbledore's character is believably divergent from canon (being paranoid about the demonic god within Heather), and was easy to write. I find it far easier to write a flawed Dumbledore, who nonetheless tries to do the right thing and, if proven wrong, will accept that and try to work around that.**

 **diagonalpumpkin** **: While I enjoy Terry Pratchett and his version of Death, the popular image of Death or the Reaper is of a robed skeleton. Death of the Discworld is but a humorous version of an image that has pervaded Western culture for centuries. Hence Death's reference to it.**

 **sunsethill** **: You have points, but keep in mind that Hermione probably thinks that Scabbers should be kept in a cage more often, and not just in Ron's jacket pocket. That's how a Muggle would keep a rat. Plus, she seems to fixate on people and animals and think they can do no wrong: Dumbledore, Lockhart, Crookshanks…**

 **.3950** **: I suspect that part of the reason why Harry's Occlumency was so poor was the fact that the horcrux was, to use computer terminology, a backdoor into his head. The fact that Snape is a poor teacher with a grudge against Harry, and that Harry himself is both impulsive and wears his heart on his sleeve, doesn't help matters.**

 **Shadow Dragon3221** **: I actually have to confess, Parseltongue allowing one to speak with dragons is one of the fanon ideas I call bullshit over. So it won't be included as something that will help Harry in the sequel.**

 **Original And Easy To Pronounce** **(aka the User Formerly Known As** **Aedesius** **): Yes, I have. I also have a** ** _very_** **small annoyance threshold. I put in the disclaimers warning people about the annotations. In addition, I do reply in my fanfics to people who do complain, telling them to stop. It is not unreasonable for me to tell people to quit their complaining, especially as all they have to do is scroll down and go to the next chapter, regardless of the harm intended. I write these things on my own terms. Feel free to read and enjoy my fics, but** ** _please_** **do not tell me what to do and dress it up as a suggestion. I** ** _detest_** **people telling me what to do.**

 **Son of Zeus0001** **: It's not hard to follow. I chose that term rather than juggle with 'half-Veela' and 'quarter-Veela', and I thought 'Part-Veela' would be standard nomenclature amongst Veela themselves because it is more polite.**

 **Guest** **: Look, Philip José Farmer can get away with his Wold Newton family concept, so I don't think there's anything wrong with what I've tried.**

 **Iri711** **: Hey, I don't expect people to review every single chapter, just the latest one that they've read up to, especially if they've just joined the story, or else up to the end of the currently finished arc in longer stories (which is how I review some stories). And I see what you mean by Ron and Audrey being shipped. I am seriously considering it for** ** _In Spite of Appearances_** **, and Ron and Hermione do seem a bit like an odd couple at times. As little as I actually use the ship itself (I've only marked one story as having it:** ** _Is Your Great Aunt an A.I?!_** **), Harmony (Harry/Hermione, for those unacquainted with shipping terms) is my preferred ship. Either that, or with Luna. I do tend to have Harry shipped with other characters in my crossovers, though.**

 **1\. Unlike full Veela, Fleur doesn't transform completely. She doesn't get the beak and stuff. I actually thought of what happened to Peri in the** ** _Doctor Who_** **story** ** _Vengeance on Varos_** **: she is gradually changed into a bird-like creature by a transmogrification device. I thought of Peri in the earlier stages of the mutation when thinking of this. Only better looking, in a weird way.**


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